Corners of the Mind
by WhyXandNotU
Summary: What could have been if DD had stuck around? MSR, series mythology reinvented. Mulder returns with no memories of his past. Scully works to figure out what has happened to Mulder while struggling with her feelings for him, her pregnancy, and a new partner. Mulder isn't sure he likes the man Scully tells him he his. TLG lend their assistance. Don't forget to review! :)
1. Alive & Whole

Notes: I don't own these characters. I've never done this before. Let me know what you think.

(If our dear DD hadn't had a midlife crisis...)

Post Requiem

I flew through the door with out a second of guilt for slamming the crash bar. Feeling solid things was good; it was necessary. Here. Now. Whole. Alive. I caught sight of Skinner and Agent Doggett. They both exchanged looks of horror at my appearance. Skinner had tried to keep me away. Had he _met_ me?

"Where?" I breathed. Agent Doggett had a decidedly warning tone which I decidedly ignored.

"Agent Scully, I..."

"Where?" I addressed Skinner this time.

"Dana, just stop and listen," Skinners voice had an imploring note to it that stopped me with a thud of my heart.

"Tell me then," I acquiesced. I closed my eyes and waited for the story of Mulder's inability to remember what happened while he was, "away," as Agent Doggett put it. I was prepared for that. I was also prepared to hear that the undiagnosed brain disease that was killing was wasn't any better, was worse, whatever. Whatever it was I would deal with it. I _had_ to see him.

"His lack of memory doesn't surprise me at all. I need to see him." _I need to hear him say my name. _Instead I heard Agent Doggett again.

"Scully, he doesn't remember anything. Nothing. He's been here for 6 days and we just found him. He couldn't tell the hospital staff who he is."

"What..." I began, but words failed me. I had no voice.

"No." I looked at Skinner, begging him to contradict Doggett's words.

All he could say was, "I'm sorry, Dana."

Doggett continued to talk. I should have been able to understand him, he was speaking my language, the language of medicine: vitals, stats, medications, tests... But all I could hear was the roaring of blood in my ears. I felt Skinner's strong hands on my upper arms and saw his mouth move, but all I caught was, "okay?" I forced myself to take a deep breath and thought furiously, _Dana, dammit! You are _not_ going to faint._

"I want to sit," I finally managed. Skinner guided me to an unforgiving plastic chair where I promptly put my head on my knees and did my best to doctor talk myself back to coherence.

Nothing. Not his name, not his work, not me. But, when he sees me, he'll remember. He'll remember my face, my voice. _And if he doesn't?_ Now, my inner voice was taunting me. I didn't know where to start or what to say to the two men staring at me, obviously afraid I was going to keel over from shock like the heroine of bad antebellum film. I wouldn't give Skinner the satisfaction of having been right to try to keep me away.

"He should have been seen by a psychiatrist. I need to talk to that doctor."

...

After a lengthy discussion with the resident psych doctor, I found her to be reasonable woman. Dr. Cenetta seemed genuinely concerned for Mulder's physical and mental health. Moreover, she seemed to understand my position and my desire to see my, "partner." She agreed that a short, calm interaction with me may stimulate Mulder's temporal lobe appropriately. Temporal lobe. That's where the anomalous brain activity showed on the most recent abductees. I asked the questions that needed to be asked about the condition of Mulder's brain. I was not at all prepared for the answer I was given.

"I haven't had a chance to review Mr. Mulder's previous medical records. However, the scans that we ran to determine if his temporal lobe had been damaged all came back normal."

I wanted to say, "That's not possible." But, after 7 years on the X-Files, I had lost some of my rigid convictions. I asked to see the scans and print outs for myself. It would be some kind of proof. Proof that wherever Mulder had been, how ever he was otherwise mistreated, it was very likely that those who took him had corrected the abnormalities in his frontal lobe. I pushed back the urge to ask the ubiquitous why. At this moment, the why didn't matter. I had the body of Mulder back, but I needed his mind back as well. The questions could wait.

"I'd like to see him now." I tried to infuse my voice with confidence and a tone that would not be refused. But, I faltered. I was experiencing the age old battle of body and mind. What the two wanted were entirely different. My body begged for a break, for sleep, for peace. My mind, on the other hand, would have none of that. My heart. My heart ached for Mulder, for myself, for the little boy or girl whose father may never remember his relationship with his mother.

...

I knocked gently on the door of his room. My gut was in my throat and I could taste metal. Adrenaline and lots of it was coursing through my body, leaving me unsteady and jerky. He was awake. He looked terrible: ashen with scars on his face. Those symmetrical dots of abraded skin reminded me of Native American war paint. He would have needed the strength of a warrior to endure the torture they put him through. I stepped further into the room at his nod and with my heart squeezing and pumping furiously, I said the name that I had uttered countless times over the last several weeks.

"Mulder," came out at a whisper. He looked at me and smiled with a brilliant display of white teeth.

"Hi," came out of that mouth that I had come to know so well. "I know... well you know me! You're not wearing a white coat or scrubs, so maybe... maybe you know me?" He smiled shyly at me then. I had thought for just an instant that he had recognized me, but his last question was phrased so tentatively, I knew he was hoping, not remembering.

"I do know you." I had to keep myself under a tight reign. I wanted so badly to rush to him, take his hand, kiss his forehead, kiss the wounds on his cheeks and crawl into that narrow bed and hold him close. Instead, I simply stated, "we work together. I'm you're, well we're partners."

"Oh okay," he was still tentative as was I. "I wasn't expecting that. But, we work at the FBI. Some guys were here earlier and told me some things about myself. Look, I hate to be too personal with someone I work with, but..." his voice trailed off and I could see worry and sadness warring with need in his dark features. "Well, hey, you haven't even told me your name. I, apparently, and according to my medical chart am _Fox_ Mulder."

I laughed. I actually laughed at the way he said his first name. For the first time since I picked up the phone to hear Skinner say he had been found, I relaxed a bit.

"My name is Scully. Dana Scully. I'm sorry. Its just that you've never liked your name. You insisted that everyone, including your parents call you Mulder, all the time." His look of surprise at my laughter faded into understanding and then returned to the tension it had before my outburst.

"My parents." His voice was quiet and a bit questioning. "Where, I mean, are they...? Do I have any family? The only people I've seen in the past 24 hours are doctors, nurses and people from the FBI. Am I... Is there... I mean I have to go back to a home at some point. I assume I have a home! But, is there anyone there?"

And I heard my heart break. People think that it must be a loud sound, a shattering, that sound of heart breaking. But, its not. Its a very small, unobtrusive sound that nonetheless sends shock waves through the body and leaves hands and feet tingling.

"Mulder, I'm there." He seemed reassured by that. Thank God. I left the hospital room and came face to face with Skinner and Doggett lurking in the hallway. Skinner tried to talk to me, but I couldn't open my mouth. I darted into the lady's room across the hall and was thoroughly sick.


	2. Patience is a Virtue

I had my ducks in a row, finally. After reviewing the scans and print outs provided by Dr. Cenetta, I was in complete agreement. The results of the test were abnormal, only in that they were normal, and they shouldn't have been. The cause of Mulder's lack of memory was psychological, not physiological. I explained as much to Skinner and Agent Doggett with the preface that this was a good thing.

"How is having a psychological problem better than one that might be fixed with surgery or medicine?" Skinner asked.

"Sir, the nature of the amnesia, although very rare, has been closely studied. What Mulder is experiencing is called dissociative fugue. Although, he hasn't made an attempt to create a new identity for himself, the symptoms clearly fit. The good part of this is that the duration of the symptoms is certainly finite. They could last from only a few hours to a few months. But, they will end at some point." I was relieved to have the explanation for myself and I could tell that Skinner was relieved as well. But, Agent Doggett…

"So, what you're saying is that eventually he'll remember where he's been for the last month and we can clear up this whole thing? Put an end to it?"

"No, Agent Doggett, I'm not saying that. It's very rare that people recover memories of events that led to the fugue state. Obviously, Mulder experience an inordinate amount of psychological trauma that led to this dissociation in the first place. The brain may never choose to remember _how_ it got there." I breathed and waited. I knew Agent Doggett, the Marine, the cop. He really was a very good cop.

"Look, I'm really glad that Mulder's going to be Mulder again. But, that doesn't help me find the bastards who did this to him. Kersch expects me to find bad guys. And I like to find bad guys, it's my job." I could relate. My first few years on the X-Files were a blur of frustration at rarely, if ever, being able to pin a crime on someone who would pay the price for evil deeds inflicted on innocent people. I felt bad for Doggett, but I was also frustrated. This hardnosed agent had been pushed on us and at times more of a hindrance than a help.

"Agent Doggett, I've told you before that your normal methods of investigation aren't going to get you far on this case. It's an X-File. And frankly you don't know sh-…" Skinner put his firm hand on my shoulder to still me.

"What Agent Scully is trying to say here, Agent Doggett, is that we would both appreciate a little bit of patience from you. We want to get to the bottom of this as badly as you do. However, it may not as simple as finding the bad guys."

I saw Agent Doggett's lips tighten and his posture straighten. I realized that he had no reason to believe.

"I agree with you there, Sir. Nothing about this is simple. But, someone took Mulder from that forest and someone put holes in his face and cut him open. A lot of people in this world are sick individuals and Mulder had a knack for pissing those people off. And you're also right, Agent Scully. This is an X-File. So, that's where I'm going to start, with Mulder's files." He pivoted and strode out the door reaching for his cell phone. I stared after him and then met Skinner's gaze.

"Oh he'll find the answer in those files alright," I smirked at Skinner and he nodded back. "But he won't recognize it when he sees it."

….


	3. Welcome Home

Two interminable days later, I drove Mulder to his apartment building. We had been shy with each other and I was more than uncomfortable answering questions he had about his life and our work. I felt as though I was now keeping our relationship a secret from him as well the rest of the world. It was too new when he was taken from Bellefleur. We hadn't yet achieved the ease of long term relationships. In retrospect, that may have been silly, but our physical intimacy was still intense, exciting and forbidden. We found ourselves acting like guilty teens.

"Well, this is it," I said with a sigh. I didn't want to be apart from him, but I thought he needed space to reclaim his home. He probably needed space from me too. I had sat with him and talked with him for most of the last two days. I needed a break too. I needed to shower, to sleep and I felt like I could eat a cow by myself.

"Thanks for the ride, Dana. But, uh, would you mind coming in with me?" I blushed furiously thinking of the last night we had spent in his apartment together. We had been a tangled mess of limbs and bed clothes. After our hectic love making, we fell asleep pressed close to each other. Each of us molded to the other in the relaxation of sleep. We had, after several months of similar scenes, finally gotten used to actually sleeping in a bed with one another. The next morning, Billy Miles had called and asked for our help.

He saw my reaction (damn this fair skin) and hastened to assure me, "I don't know which apartment is mine, that's all. Will you show me?"

"Oh, sure! I'm sorry, Mulder, I didn't think…" I could tell he was embarrassed too and that made me feel better. I wasn't the only one who was feeling inordinately shy. I pulled the car closer to the curb and he followed me up the steps and inside. When we approached number 42, I fished my keys back out of my jacket pocket and unlocked the deadbolt without much thought. I turned to Mulder when he didn't step in behind me. He had his own keys in his hand still looking at them. He looked up at me with a quizzical look.

"You have a key to _my_ apartment."

I turned away before the telltale red tide made another appearance. "Yeah," I said as casually as I could manage. "I feed your fish when you're away." That sounded completely lame so I supplemented it with, "you have a key to my place, its the one with the blue rubber."

He smiled at that, his warm, slightly crooked, mischievous smile. "You have fish too?"

"Ah, no I don't. I used to have a dog, though." _Lame, Dana, totally lame. _I unpacked the small sack the hospital had given him to bring his few possessions home. I put the silly blue hospital socks in his sock drawer and his medicine in the cabinet in the bathroom. I was afraid he would have trouble remembering when to take his medicine, so I grabbed pen and paper from his desk and made a schedule. After I had taped this to his bathroom mirror, I found him contemplating the untidy stack of video cassettes. I had cleaned and tidied the place weeks ago in anticipation of his return. But, I didn't touch the video collection. I never would.

"Mulder, if you need anything, you have my number." He started back and nearly tripped over his coffee table.

"Yeah, sure, I uh, I have your home and your cell."

"Good." I couldn't help but smile at him. "I'll pick you up for your appointment with Dr. Cenetta tomorrow afternoon. I left a schedule for your meds in the bathroom. Get some sleep." I plucked my jacket off the back of the couch and turned to leave.

"Hey, Dana…" his voice was firm, but shy still. He glanced from me to the videos ad quickly back. He looked at a loss for words, poor thing.

"It's okay, Mulder, I resigned myself to your many quirks years ago. Good night."

….


	4. New Contours & Revelations

I arrived home to my quiet apartment and went about my usual routine. Keys in the bowl, gun on the end table. I slipped my shoes off as I headed for my bedroom and sighed heavily at the sight of my still unmade bed. It's the little things that I used to keep myself sane through the absolute _in_sanity of our cases, the terror of uncovering conspiracies, and the feelings of loss and regret that threatened to overwhelm me in times of loneliness. If my bed was made, my dishes were washed and the place was dusted, I could pretend to live a normal life. None of these things were done at the moment.

After I changed into my favorite cream silk pajamas, I began the task of ordering my surroundings. Perhaps that would order my mind as well. As I dried the last dish and set it clinking with its fellows in the cupboard, I had the feeling of satisfaction that comes with a task completed. I had so little control over my life that I actually got a sense of accomplishment from washing dishes. I glanced wistfully at my full wine rack. The muzzy head that came from a glass or two of Merlot would have been a balm to my senses and emotions. I dropped my still damp hand to rest just below my naval and smiled to myself.

In the next instant, I jerked my hand away and stared down at myself. When the hell had _that_ happened? The contours of my body seemed to have changed overnight. I was getting used to the tightness in my button up shirts, but this was very new. I put my hand back to my belly and smoothed the silk up and down, feeling the roundness that now characterized my lower abdomen. I headed for my full length mirror in the bathroom and was pleasantly surprised at what I saw. I never really thought of myself as being beautiful, but I had a lovely, soft blush to my face and an inviting fullness to my breasts. I lifted the loose hem of my night shirt and gazed at my rounded belly. I don't think anyone else would have noticed, but it was obvious to me. I did some quick calculating in my head. Twelve weeks? Maybe a bit ore? Too early to actually "show," but my skin was thinner and tight and if I pushed down just at my naval, I could feel the grapefruit size hardness below.

I thought for second about snatching up my phone and calling my mother. But, a glance at the clock told me it had to wait until tomorrow. She was worried enough already. A phone call at one o'clock in the morning may send her over the edge. Then I thought about Mulder and the tightness in my chest that had momentarily ceased with the revelations of my new body returned. I wanted so badly to share these things with him, but the Mulder who would have taken me in his arms and made crude jokes about the new size of my breasts wasn't the Mulder I had left this evening.

With my phone still in my hand, I walked back into the living room and began switching lights off. I nearly dropped the phone when it began ringing in my hand. I took a deep breath and steadied myself after the sudden rush of adrenaline that comes from being startled like a rabbit and answered.

"Hello?" I knew I sounded a little breathless, but couldn't help it.

"Ah, Dana? Did I wake you up? I'm really sorry, but I had a dream and…" he trailed off.

"Mulder? You didn't wake me. Tell me about your dream." My God, it was as if thinking of him had prompted him to call.

"Well, you shot me. I know that doesn't make any sense at all, but it was a really vivid dream and it, well it disturbed me a bit," he finished weakly.

"That's good, Mulder! You remember! Did you dream anything else?" I was exstatic. It wasn't my first preference of a memory to return to him, but…

"Remember? I was dreaming, Dana… Oh… you shot me?! Why?!"

For what seemed the thousandth time that long, long day, I blushed again.

"It's a long story, suffice to say I had to and it's a damn good thing I did!" I was feeling defensive. I had never really forgiven myself for letting that situation go as far as did. I should have known sooner that there were forces at work using Mulder like a pawn.

"Wow," he sounded a bit exasperated and I contemplated telling him the whole story about that horrible time when his father was killed, but he spoke again before I could start my diatribe.

"Either I'm a very, very forgiving person or you're extremely good in bed."

I nearly dropped the phone again and had to do some deep breathing to keep my cool. He seemed to have taken my silence, and possibly my huffing for anger.

"I'm sorry, Dana, I shouldn't have said that. But, we do, you know, do that right?" After his nearly stuttering question, he rushed to add, "You know your way around my place pretty well and there are two toothbrushes and some other stuff in the bathroom that I'm certain I have no use for and you're the only woman who's been around and…" I had to interrupt him before he burst a blood vessel.

"It's okay," I said in soothing voice. But, it had done me in. The emotion and physical stress of the whole experience seemed to crash down on me all me at once. I sank down on my unmade bed and took one more deep breath. "It's alright, Mulder. But, can we talk about all this tomorrow? I'm… I'm exhausted." For one instant of insanity I considered telling him that I was pregnant. I was glad I opted out; fatherhood wasn't something he should have to contemplate tonight.

"Sure, Dana, no problem, we'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow." He sounded disappointed, but I could tell he understood.

"Good night again, Mulder."

….


	5. Doggett's Bone

The next morning, I focused on returning emails and phone calls from various sources, law enforcement agencies, and what seemed like several hundred emails from the Lone Gunmen. Always fiercely loyal, they were beside themselves with anxiety and perhaps needed to see Mulder just as badly as I had. After only an hour or so of actual work, I had leaned back in Mulder's chair, feet propped on the desk and was contemplating whether or not three of the dozen or so pencils stuck in the ceiling aligned with the constellation Orion. This amused me to the point that I went to find one of the many astronomical charts laying around the back part of the office. I was just about to make up my mind that, in fact, the alignment of the pencils _was_ remarkably similar when an all too familiar feeling began washing over me. I licked dry lips and made the mistake of taking a sip of water. When was I going to learn? I let out a moan of defeat and made yet another dash for the basement bathroom.

Upon emerging from the ladies room a few minutes later, I was nearly stepped on by Agent Doggett.

"There you are, Agent Scully, I have a bone to pick with you on some things I found… Hey, are you okay? You look sick." I had a brief flashback to a rustic-looking motel in Oregon.

"I'm fine, Agent Doggett. What's your bone?" I walked past him and back into Mulder's office, sliding behind the desk and very gratefully sitting down.

"Hey, look, I don't want to bug you. I know things are tough right now, but I do want some answers. That is, if you're up to giving them to me." He peered at me and I knew what he saw, I had just seen it in the dusty mirror of the basement bathroom. It wasn't good. Only knowing that I would, essentially, be right as rain in a few minutes kept me from begging off.

"Have a seat and tell me what I can do for you, Agent." I'm fairly certain I kept from rolling my eyes, but wouldn't swear to it.

"I found some files down here that bear a striking resemblance to the case of Agent Mulder's disappearance." Now I did roll my eyes. "People go missing for anywhere from 3 weeks up to 6 months. They disappear from places rumored to have connections to UFO sightings. They report tests were done on them. Sometimes they get real sick and die. But, sometimes they get better and no one knows why or how."

"Agent Doggett, I know you're not familiar with abduction scenarios, but that pretty much sums up the reports of half the people who claim to have been abducted by aliens. What's your bone with me?"

He hesitated and stood back up. He came around the desk and perched himself on the corner of it. I was uncomfortable at his proximity, but he knew that. I was supposed to be uncomfortable. He was using a classic interrogation technique on me and I didn't like it one bit.

"Well see, Agent Scully, there's a file in there with your name on that it fits that description too. Why didn't you tell me you had a similar disappearance to Mulder's? It could have helped my investigation. Details that you remember, that aren't in your file could have helped us find him sooner."

I shot out of my chair and got in his personal space. Two can play the cop game.

"What exactly are you insinuating, Agent Doggett? Do you think that if I had any information that could have helped Mulder, I wouldn't have done everything I could to use that information to his benefit?" Doggett backed off and had the decency to look abashed.

"I'm not questioning your loyalty to your partner. The stunts you've pulled on me since I was given this assignment are enough to tell me not question that. What I _do_ question is your motives for hindering _my_ investigation into his disappearance. I know you and Skinner were running your side show. I don't know how you got the tip off on Gibson Praise, but I know how I got mine. You should have come to me. I'm here to help with this. I'm gonna find out where Mulder was and who took him there. But, I need help and cooperation from you."

Sighing heavily, I sank back into my chair and motioned for him to do the same.

"Do you really want to pursue this, Agent Doggett? You could end up with a guest chair down here in the basement if you say the wrong things to Kersch. Think about that." Doggett sat and stared at the "I Want to Believe" poster behind for some time before answering.

"A corner office with a view, hell a window, would be nice. But, what I really want Agent Scully, is the truth." In that instant, I began to respect Agent Doggett, maybe even like him a little.

"Find the others who were taken from Bellefleur, Oregon. That's where it all started. That's where we need to start now." Doggett raised an eyebrow at me and gave me a weak smile.

"We? Agent Scully?"

_A/N: Much thanks to those who posted reviews! Many apologies for the lack of editing in the last chapter. Man I feel like a tool! _


	6. Gray, not Green

I helped Agent Doggett put together a list of people who had disappeared from Bellefleur around the same time Mulder was taken. Doggett actually thought of researching other possible disappearances from areas known to have a high rate of UFO sightings. This impressed me, to say the least. It seemed that he was opening up to extreme possibilities. I said as much, but his response disabused me of the notion.

"Agent Scully, I find most of the things I've read in these X-Files to be incredible at best, outright psychosis at worst. I don't believe in little green men…"

"Gray," I said. "Little, gray men."

"Well whatever color they are, I don't happen to believe they exist. What I am open to is the possibility that there's a rogue medical company out there conducting clandestine research. Aliens from outer space didn't kidnap these people. It was men, just your regular average earthlings on a power trip, chasing the almighty buck."

I was a bit disappointed, but not at all surprised. How long had it taken _me_ to truly open my mind to the extreme? How long had I followed Mulder around harassing him about everything _I_ knew to be true about the known the physical world? What it took me years to understand was that was his point all along: I was working off of my understanding of the _known _physical world. Mulder was after the unknown, the possible, not the probable.

"I think you may be onto something with looking for connections with other mass abuct… ah… kidnappings. I have a feeling that whoever is doing this is going around correcting their mistakes. The anomalous brain activity that Mulder had in common with other abductees may just be the key. They may have realized they did something gravely wrong." I looked at the clock and dropped the file I was holding casting about for where I had left my jacket and keys. It was a quarter to one and Mulder needed to be at his appointment with Dr. Cenetta at one-thirty. I grabbed my things and headed out the door with a curt word about needing to be somewhere.

"Hey, Agent Scully!" Doggett called after me.

"What is it?" I glanced back over my shoulder to see a legitimately concerned look about the stoic agent.

"Shouldn't you be concerned? You're very likely on their list." I was at a loss. When I had been in Oregon, I was sure that whatever was in those didn't want me. It had knocked me back, rejected me.

"I don't see why, Agent Doggett." Now a look of surprise crossed his countenance.

"You were kidnapped. They did tests on you. According to your file, the tests gave you cancer and…" Doggett paused and looked immeasurably uncomfortable but, bravely continued. "And left you unable to have children of your own. Did it occur to you that they might want to 'fix' something they did to you?"

The thought of having them take me again and do… well whatever it is that they do caused the blood to drain from my face and a cold prickly sweat to break out on my forehead. I wiped a hand down my face and steadied myself on the door jamb.

"No, Agent Doggett, whatever fixing they intended to do with me, they've already done. I believe they're finished with me. I'm in no danger. But, thank you." I turned and left before he could reply. I didn't want to hear anything else about what _they_ may or may not do.

_a/n... this is a short one, my apologies. But, it contains a tiny bit of a hint to a prequel I'm planning. First things, first though. Gonna finish this one. If you have posted a review, THANK YOU! If you haven't, and you're still reading, you should. Its like writer's food. We can't live with out it._


	7. Lonely Sonova-

_a/n: a little fix for the MSR junkies. There's more of that to come. And more mythology to the story too. I'm trying to mix it up a bit to keep both aspects of the story moving. How am I doing? Tell me what you want more of!_

* * *

I called Mulder on the way to tell him to meet me at the street. We were running late, which I despise, though the rest of the world seems content to never keep to a schedule. I was a bit apprehensive about our next meeting considering last night's revelations. I was upset with myself, really. After my experience with Daniel several months before, I had been determined to turn over a new leaf. It was second nature to me to compartmentalize my life and my emotions. Upon examining where all that had led, I swore to myself that I would be honest with people about my feelings. That oath had led to me to Mulder's bed. The thought of the last several months together, and together in a sense we had never been made the ghost of desire crop up. I had missed him and I was still missing him. _My_ Mulder. He was mine and I was his and I desperately wanted that connection to return, to share his mind, his memories, and his bed. But, he was so fragile. I was afraid of overwhelming him with the responsibility of a relationship. I didn't want him to feel obligated to me. In his current state, he didn't even know me. Was the honesty of my feelings for him a help or a hindrance? I didn't know, but I intended to talk it out with Mulder and Dr. Cenetta.

As I approached my last turn, I steeled myself against my desires once again, hopefully for Mulder's good. I could not have him push me away out of fear. He stood on the stoop of his building in jeans and a gray long sleeved shirt. He nearly took my breath away. From a distance, the marks on his face weren't visible. With no trace of what he had recently endured, he looked like he had when he had left me that fateful morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It's incredible that fear and loss and more fear and frustration can make just five weeks seem such a terribly long time.

When he got in the car he gave me a customary, yet still unfamiliar sounding,

"Hi, Dana." I contemplated telling him to call me Scully, like he always had, but when the thought formed fully, it seemed trivial.

"I really appreciate you taking time out of work to do this." I braced myself to make an honest reply, not just courteous, but truly honest.

"It's no trouble Mulder. I'm pretty sure Skinner doesn't really want me around much right now." _Dammit, Dana, say it!_ "And this is important to me too Mulder. I… I need to help you because I have a stake in this too. You weren't wrong last night. But, its… it's much more than that…" my voice faded and I was praying that I hadn't said the wrong thing when he took my hand from my lap and held it between his two large, warm hands.

"I'm glad it's more than that. I've been afraid that I'm just a lonely sonovabitch with no sense whatsoever." I smiled faintly, feeling suddenly much more comfortable with him than I had since his return.

"Well, you were a lonely sonovabitch with no sense whatsoever for a long time. But, I was pretty senseless for a lot of that time too." Mulder took the hand he was still holding and brought to his lips. The touch of his breath on the back of my hand, his fingers curled under mine and the soft brush of lips brought tears to my eyes. I would have happily melted right then and there, except there was business to take care. We had an appointment to keep: an appointment that would be one more step in regaining our shared life.

"We need to go, Mulder," my voice was nearly a whisper.

"Yeah, we do, I need to remember everything about you, Dana." I let out a small laugh and he was clearly surprised by it.

"Well, there a few choice moments I wouldn't mind you having forgotten." With that, I put the car in the gear and departed for the next destination on our new journey together.


	8. So, This is Love?

As psychiatrists go, Mulder's doctor was quite optimistic about the fugue state ending sooner rather than later. She gave us tips and had some cautions for us. I could tell Mulder was drinking in the information, occasionally taking notes and occasionally passing looks at me ranging from knowing to shy. What I considered her most important piece of advice was,

"Be honest with each other. Fox, you can't expect Dana to help you to the best of her ability if you're not honest. And, Dana, Fox needs to know that you're committed to him. I know it's a lot of pressure, but you are his support system." I nodded and glanced at Mulder, his eyes, those beautiful eyes were clouded with pain.

"It's true, Dana. You're the only one who knows me, the real me, anymore. My family, my parents they're gone. But, if I'm being too needy or you're just sick of me, please tell me. I don't want you to continue this with me because you feel trapped by obligation." He looked at the doctor for confirmation that his feelings were acceptable.

"That's good Fox, you recognize that Dana could need some space to deal with her own feelings. Dana, how do you feel about that?" I wanted to laugh. Typical counseling: tell me about your _feelings._ Well I never was good with feelings. But, I was learning.

"I am here with you because I feel obligated to, Mulder. But, obligation and love are not mutually exclusive. I want to be with you through this. I _need_ to be with you." I couldn't help it, I blushed at my own declaration and my eyes slid away from his to my hands in my lap. I was learning about expressing feelings, but I was still a long way from competent.

The silence that followed my statement was deafening. Dr. Cenetta had chosen this uncomfortable moment to stay silent and let Mulder and I communicate with each other. I caught Mulder's eye again, I couldn't really help it as he was staring at me.

"So this is love? I'm glad. I don't want to be that lonely man. I caught just a glimpse of it and I don't want it."

"Mulder, it's not that you were a sad and lonely person. Your work is your life. It has been since before I met you. Your quest for the truth was your solace, your belief in the certainty of finding the truth is what makes you tick. You can't lose that for fear of loneliness. And you don't have to. I'm there with you, we share that too." He took my hand from lap and enveloped in his much larger, smooth hand.

"I have a lot of questions about my work. And I have a lot of questions about us. Please, be patient with me."

"I will, Mulder, I promise."

After a few more exchanges in which Dr. Cenetta, thankfully, elected to participate, I left the room to allow them time to speak privately. My turn would come and I was glad to have the opportunity to order my thoughts beforehand.

However when I sat down in the waiting room and attempted to make a mental list of questions, my mind began wandering. The third (maybe fourth?) late night in row was catching up with me. Instead of looking like a dazed owl, I chose to lean my head against the wall and close my eyes for a bit.

When I opened my eyes again, it was to a dark room. I could see men in the shadows coming toward me, I looked to their faces to see if I recognized them. I did and the recognition turned my blood cold. They all had the same face; the face of the alien bounty hunter. They had come for me. God, where was Mulder? I tried to call out to him, but my throat was too tight with fear and I managed only a strangle grunt. I wanted to run, to flee, but I couldn't see anywhere to go. The doors and windows of the waiting room had faded into black walls. Three of them came to me and held me down. They stared at me with menacing, unblinking eyes. A fourth clone came out of the darkness before me. He held a scalpel in his hand and advanced on me pointing the tip of the sharp metal at me. I struggled against the grip of the other three men and found my voice.

"Leave me alone! What do you want from me? Haven't you done enough to us?!"

The man with scalpel put a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

"It has to be this way, Agent Scully. We must continue." He put the scalpel to my face and I jerked and bucked trying desperately to find purchase on some surface but I couldn't out muscle them.

"Please, don't do this, I'm pregnant. Please don't hurt me, don't hurt my baby." At my pleading, the man's expression finally changed, but it changed to a look of amusement.

"This baby is not yours. It never was and never will be. It's ours." The man didn't hesitate another second. He pushed the gleaming scalpel into my bared stomach and made a clean, but viscous incision from my naval down. I tried to scream again, but all that escaped my lips was a silent, "No!" Then I heard Mulder calling my name in the distance. I wanted to call out for him but…

When he touched my shoulder I jerked upright and my hands flew to my belly. I was gasping for air, my heart pounding and I think I continued whispering, "No, no, no."

"Dana? It's alright, Dana. You fell asleep." He took me in his arms and held me close until I stopped shaking. I managed to pull it together and shifted to look up at him. Concern was written all over his face.

"Must have been some dream. You okay?"

"I'm fine, Mulder. Are we ready to go?" I could tell he was having a hard time believing me. "It was just a dream. I'm alright."

Mulder sighed with resignation, "It's your turn with Dr. Cenetta. You might tell her about that dream."


	9. To Disclose or Not to Disclose

_Have I mentioned lately that I love reviews? Do ya hate it, do ya love it? Is there something I'm leaving out that you think MUST be told? Tell me. Heck, I'll even take suggestions. Tell me whatchya want whatchya really, really want. Okay, now that that's out of the way. There's a bit of a cliff hanger (dundundun!) moment at the end here. Don't panic, it'll be in the next chapter... soon._

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I didn't tell the good doctor about my little nap-mare, nonetheless, we had a good, if not quite as enlightening as I would have liked, conversation. I gave her more background information on my relationship with Mulder. She was surprised to know that we had really only been together, in the non-platonic sense, for several months.

"Doctor Cenetta, you told us to be honest with each other and I don't at all disagree with that, but there is information that I've kept from Mulder. I'm hesitant to share this with him for a few reasons. I know very little about his psychological condition and I wouldn't want news of this nature to set him back or cause further difficulties for him. I've only shared this information with two people, one out of necessity, the other out of courtesy as I'm concerned that my superiors at the FBI could potentially use it against me to end my involvement in the investigation into Mulder's abd… disappearance," I could tell that I was rambling and in order to keep from clamming up or having regrets about having opened my mouth in the first place, I continued. "I would like your input on whether or not I should disclose this information to Mulder at this particular juncture. If Mulder shouldn't recover from his dissociative state sooner rather than later, as you suggested, I feel that my silence could be a betrayal of our relationship." I finally stopped so that she could take in my statements and I waited, very much on edge, for her reply.

I wished she would hurry up, after my deluge of word vomit, the silence made the room feel empty. I could feel my heart beating and had butterflies flitting around my stomach and chest. When she finally spoke, her questions were more or less expected.

"Well, Dana, is this information something that directly affects your personal relationship with Fox? You mentioned concern for him and concern for your ability to help him through your work. Do you have a more personal stake this revelation than that?"

"Yes," the word the came out in a breathless hiss but I, once again, gathered my faculties and pushed forward. "This very much affects our personal relationship and under normal circumstances, he would have the very first person I went to," I could feel the tears pricking at my eyes. I couldn't stop. I knew I shouldn't stop for my own sake. I needed to have someone know how alone and afraid I had been. I felt my face crumble and through the emotion that clogged my throat I said, "But, he was gone."

Tears slid down my face, one by one. I hadn't cried for him them, I had had to be strong: to face Kersch's ridiculous taskforce, the blundering manhunt. I had to focus on finding Mulder. I had to find him, I had to tell him. I didn't give up on a miracle.

"I'm sorry," I told the doctor when I was able to look her in the eye again.

"Dana, it's okay. You're completely entitled to your feelings and it's very good that you're sharing them. I can tell it's not easy for you to let people in. But, I encourage you to continue to talk about your feelings. You don't have to be alone through this and you shouldn't be. Do you have anyone else, any family you can go to for support?"

"Yes, my mother," I sniffed and smiled at the thought of my mom's reaction to her stoic daughter opening up about feelings. She'd be thrilled beyond belief.

"Good. Utilize that support system. Let the people who love you help you. Now, about this information that you're conflicted about disclosing; everything we say here is confidential, I won't tell Fox and I certainly won't be in contact with the FBI. Can you tell me what it is?"

A smile tugged at the corners of mouth. I took a deep breath and let the smile take over my face. I was happy, after all. Even with the circumstances being mysterious, the timing being much less than ideal and the man I shared my life with having been abducted, and tortured to the point of having temporary amnesia: I was thrilled. I allowed a gesture that I refused myself in the company of others up until now. With a thrill of once again being able to say it out loud, I splayed a hand over my belly in affection for the tiny life residing there.

"I'm pregnant." I let out the deep breath I had taken in a sigh that sounded surprisingly contented. Dr. Cenetta smiled back at me over the steeple of fingers on which her slightly pointed chin rested.

"Congratulations, Dana. I can see you're happy with this and I can understand why you're conflicted about telling Fox." She opened her mouth to continue, but as long as I was sharing feelings, I was going to go all out. So I jumped in.

"I feel like I would be telling a man who has no past with me that I'm having his child. And having a child with a man who doesn't know me is what I wanted to avoid in the first place."

At her understandably puzzled look, I told her in as few details as possible about the diagnoses I received two years ago and our failed attempts at IVF.

"So, Fox knew about your desire to have children and was a willing participant in your efforts to become pregnant before you became romantically involved. I think that speaks to his desire to do what he can to help you to be happy. I think he would benefit from knowing that. Right now, he's not sure what kind of person he is and I think you've observed, as well as I have, that he fears he wasn't the man he should have been or wants to be."

I sighed again and said, "So, I should tell him." I paused for moment to arrange the order of my next words, "The thing is the Mulder I'm telling this to now, isn't the Mulder who would understand how much this baby means to me."

"I believe you've stumbled upon the most personal reason you've given yet for your reluctance to share with Fox that you're pregnant."

I couldn't tell her my fears and my suspicions about exactly _how_ I had conceived. I couldn't expect her to be quite that understanding. Aliens aside, even stolen ova was probably out her realm of comprehension. So, without getting into abductions, subdural microchips or genetic experiments with unknown and most likely nefarious motives, I had reached the end of what I could I share.

"But, he is still the same man. There's another point of order I would like to address with you regarding Fox's state. And, Dana, this really needs to stay between us, for Fox's sake."

….


	10. The Warm & Fuzzies

_To those of you who dropped me reviews, THANK YOU! Flattery will get you everything, including more of the story, maybe even faster! Do you any of you know someone willing to proof read? I'm terrible at proofing my own work. Thanks!_

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It certainly felt a bit strange to be driving Mulder around all the time. Over the years, I had gotten used to be being a passenger and allowing him to have that control. It made me feel like we had obtained a level of equality never before imagined. But, that was silly, he couldn't drive. It occurred to me that after Mulder fully recovered, I would most likely be back in the passenger seat. That thought, along with a quick glance at the lanky form to my right warmed me. I put out my hand and rested it gently on Mulder's knee. He looked up at me with tired eyes and the corner of his mouth turned up.

"Mulder, there are some things I need to share with you. We need to talk about…" I was surprised when he interrupted me.

"I know we do, Dana," his tone was one that I hadn't heard from him in the last week and the sound made the warmth of my musings dissipate. "I've had enough of talking for the day. I need some time alone."

I pulled my hand from his knee, but before I could return it to the steering wheel, he snatched it up in his big grasp. "I'm not pushing you away. I'd never do that." _Oh wouldn't you?_ I thought. "I think I just want to sit and be for a while: by myself."

I briefly squeezed his fingers before extricating my hand so that I could maneuver the car to the curb outside his building.

"I understand, Mulder. I do. But we should…" the ringing of my cell phone made both of us jump. We laughed at each other as I fished the phone out of my jacket pocket.

"Scully, "I intoned in my normal FBI business fashion. But, it was Frohike and he was on a roll.

"Hey, how's Mulder? Is he good? Good. I can't wait to see him, but boohowdy do I some stuff for you. What are you up to? Can you come over? When can we see Mulder? He would be interested in this stuff too, guaranteed." I had opened my mouth to answer several of the little man's questions, but didn't have an opportunity to speak until after his last statement. I rolled my eyes in Mulder's direction which was met by a quizzical cock of his eyebrow.

"Okay, Frohike. One: Yes, Mulder is fine. Did you realize that I didn't actually answer you? Two: I'm dropping Mulder off at his apartment. Three: Not now, maybe later. Four: Same as three. What do you have for me?" I heard Langley in the background, which tipped me off that I was on speaker with the Lone Gunmen.

"Damn she's good, Frohike!" I smiled and returned the speaker phone favor.

"You're on with both Mulder and me. So, what is it?"

"Satellite images from the last week and a half."

This was great news. And anticipation immediately bubbled up in me.

"Do they show UFO activity?"

"Well, Scully, I wish I could tell you I had pictures of UFOs for you, but they don't show up on satellites. What I do have, though, are _indications_ that a UFO may have been present in several locations over that time period." I glanced at Mulder and he looked very interested in the prospect of learning about this revelation. I had already made up my mind that this couldn't wait, but I recalled Mulder's plea for time to himself. There was no way I was going to leave him out of this, though.

"Frohike, I could kiss you. My place at six."

"I'm gonna hold you to that kiss, my fiery G-woman. Will there be food?" I laughed. Of course, if one wanted favors from the Gunmen, one must produce proper enticement.

"I'll spring for pizza. But, it's BYOB. I don't want to hear you whine about how I don't keep cheap beer in my fridge."

"We'll be there!"

Langley cut in again, "Hey, Mulder, it's good to have you back, man!" Then the line went dead. Mulder was staring at me while slowly shaking his head back and forth.

"Interesting friends you have there, G-woman," he said with a laugh.

"Not mine: yours."

….

I arrived home, sans Mulder, with a few hours to spare before my much anticipated company was due to arrive. I really wanted to put on sweatpants and a t-shirt, but I couldn't quite bring myself to be frumpy when I knew Mulder was coming too. It was strange. He had seen me in (and out) of a variety of get ups over the years. But, suddenly, I was shy about what he would think of my choice in clothing. I opted for my favorite jeans and a cami with yet another button up. I was debating about whether or not to take a shower when my phone rang.

I answered why my customary, "Scully," and was pleasantly greeted by mom.

"Dana, honey, how are you? I haven't heard from you for days. Tell me how Fox is holding up." I sat down on my bed and prepared to tell my mother about the events of the last few days. She listened intently as I told her of Doggett's bullheaded behavior, Skinners odd silence toward me. We hadn't spoken much at all since I brought Mulder home. I told her of our appointment with Dr. Cenetta, but of course, not about my dream. There are limits to what mothers can tolerate.

"I'm so sorry. This must be awful, for you. I think I like that psychiatrist. This is the most you've actually shared with me in a very long time. You should keep seeing her. Mothers like to know how their children are really doing, not just a cursory, 'I'm fine, Mom.' I smiled and lay down crossing my feet at my ankles and feeling rather smug. I was getting good at sharing and feelings, thank-you-very-much.

"Mom, there's something that Dr. Cenetta told me that I'm honestly not sure how to approach and she doesn't want me to tell Mulder." I understood why. It made sense. If he made wonderful memories during this dissociative state, he wouldn't want to lose those memories. It seemed like a no-brainer to me that Mulder would rather have all the rest of his life back and available to him rather than the few days (well now getting into weeks) he was without those memories.

"It's just unfair. The human brain is capable of things never seen before in nature. But one man can't have memories of returning to me _and_ memories of our past. The doctor is especially concerned because she feels that Mulder doesn't trust who he was. He doesn't seem to like the idea of his great quest to find the truth at all costs. Dr. Cenetta is concerned that his desire to not return to that lifestyle may prolong this dissociative fugue. And she's concerned that if he knows that he likely won't recollect anything from this period of time, he'll be reluctant to truly recover." I finished my explanations and stated concerns of my own. I hoped my mother had something comforting, if not useful to say. Turns out it was both.

"Dana, if Fox is concerned about this, you should tell him that the two of you are going to make wonderful memories together no matter what. When two people care for each other as deeply as you do, the past doesn't matter nearly as much as the present and the future. The future that you two have together with the baby is more important than any of the terrible things that have happened in the past." It was exactly what I needed to hear.

"Thanks, Mom."

"Now, Dana, when is your next OB appointment? I want to go."

Well apparently when you start sharing feelings, people tend to just move right into your life, no questions asked other than _when?_ I smiled to myself as I realized I was truly looking forward to having a closer relationship with my mother, even if it was completely unavoidable. I'd have her only grandchild closer than 3,000 miles. I let the smile show through my voice.

"It's next week sometime. I'll check my calendar and let you know," I paused for a second then added, "I love you, Mom. I'll talk to you soon."

There was an equally long pause on the other end, I had surprised her. Then in a thick voice my mother said, "I love you too, Dana."

Feeling newly energized I swung off my bed and began stripping my skirt suit off. _I could get used to this warm and fuzzy feeling_, I thought. I had closed myself off from everyone for so long. It was refreshing to open up and realize that having close relationships was a very real possibility.

As I began dressing, the warm and fuzzy feeling intensified. I couldn't button the bottom button of my shirt nor my jeans. Oh, my favorite jeans, our love affair was over. With a gap of a full inch between button and hole, it would be a long, long time before we met again. I folded them up and stuck them in the top of the closet to await our reunion.

I was all of a sudden feeling rebellious. I ditched my feelings of self-consciousness and threw on a pair of gray yoga pants and a white t-shirt that belonged to Mulder. I ordered the pizza (Mulder's favorite) and was considering adding a pair of fuzzy socks to my ensemble when there was a knock at my door. After a glance through the peep hole I opened the door wide to admit the Lone Gunmen who were loaded with the accoutrements of their indescribable profession: laptops, brief cases, a poster tube, and a case of Miller Highlife.

Langley stepped in the door and enthusiastically declared, "Let's get this anarchy party started!"

….

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_I'm going to start a "Next Up" section down here at the bottom of chapters. Wish I had thought of it before._

_Next up... The Lone Gunmen to the Rescue and Doggett has some 'splainin' to do to Kersch. _


	11. Men at Work & Play

_A/N: You may have noticed that I changed the rating from K to T. Well, I thought it was going to be K. But, the Scully in my head has other ideas. She's kinda pushy ;) No mature content in this chapter. I'll warn you ahead of time so, if you don't like that kind of stuff, you can skip over it. And if you do you can say something like, "Oh goody!" and rub your hands together in anticipation. Don't forget to review. Sometimes I respond to reviews..._

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Frohike and Langley immediately began making themselves at home. Byers, who actually had manners, entered more slowly and peered around.

"Where's Mulder?" Before I could answer, the still open doorway darkened and a shy voice said,

"I'm here." All of the men dropped what they were doing and stared at the man in the doorway. And then it was near pandemonium. I stood off the side, arms crossed in front me watching and feeling bemused. Mulder and the Gunmen's reunion was warm and enthusiastic with jokes and insults and laughs. Despite the awkward necessity of introducing themselves to a man they had known for ten years, the scene was one of the most beautiful displays of bro-mance I had ever seen.

Mulder smiled the broad smile he had given me when I first stepped into the hospital room. He was enjoying the display of manly affection as much as I was. At the knock that came next, I grabbed my wallet from the back of the couch and smiled at the pizza guy. The noise hadn't ceased and as I paid him and made the awkward exchanged of money for three large pizzas, the young man peered into my apartment. He gave me an up and down and remarked,

"Lucky group of guys. Have a good night," He glanced at the side of the top pizza box, "Miss Scully," he gave me a wink and walked back down the hallway. I couldn't decide if I was flattered or creeped out. But I was starving and nearly drooling on myself as I took in the delectable aroma of the pizzas I held. We all descended upon the cheesy goodness like a pack of wolves. Mulder was in heaven as I had predicted.

"It's your favorite," I told him as he was reaching for another slice.

"In that case, I have awesome taste in pizza," he smiled a broad grin at me and took a huge bite. Grease dripped down his chin and I caught it with my napkin.

"Slob," I said playfully.

"Okay you two, you're gonna make Frohike jealous, knock it off," Langley, who had been trying to monopolize Mulder's attention, brought us back to earth.

"Calm down, hippie, I'm about to earn a kiss," Frohike pulled the poster he had carried in out from under the table. "We're gonna need this table to lay these babies out on, but I can give you the run down while we eat." I was all ears, as was Mulder.

"What are these babies of yours?" Mulder asked with a nod at the tube. I was glad he was into this. It was like having no memory of past events didn't interfere with his usual interest or shenanigans. It was odd, but very comforting.

"These babies, Mulder, are satellite images from NASA, the FBI, and the NRO," Frohike and Langley looked entirely pleased with themselves. He continued, "each show similar anomalous activity in the same places at the same times over a period of 10 days. Sometimes it shows up as an imaging error, sometimes as a microburst."

"Do the anomalies show in right place for when Mulder was returned?" I asked anxiously.

"They sure do, G-woman. Where's my prize?"

I leaned over the corner of the table and planted a kiss on Frohike's cheek. He feigned being overwhelmed and I feigned disappointment.

"You didn't turn into a handsome prince," I pouted. That earned a laugh all around, even from Byers who didn't seem to have much to add. Mulder had questions, of course.

"How did you get these images? These programs deal in classified intelligence gathering."

I was shocked. Mulder knew about National Reconnaissance Organization, but didn't have a general idea of _how_ the Gunmen got the information. That was really odd.

"Well, Mulder…" Frohike began what sounded to be a lengthy explanation of his skills and methods. Langley jumped in with his own contributions. And after only a short time of their back and forth I interjected.

"You both have amazing Kung Fu. But remember, you can't tell me, or I'll have to arrest you," I cocked an eyebrow at both of them and they quieted. Frohike said something under his breath about handcuffs as turned to clear the table and I heard Mulder snort and Byers gasp.

"Alright, let's spread these out and have a look then," Mulder said.

The images that were presented didn't make a lot of sense to me, but the guys didn't seem to have a problem reading them. Byers had carefully noted the latitude and longitude of each anomaly. After quite a while of staring at the images and discussing various theories of how and why they appeared the way they did rather than actually showing a UFO, I had a thought.

"With these coordinates, I can make a list of cities and towns where other abductees may be found. If they have symptoms like Mulder's they likely can't tell anyone who they are or where they belong." I instantly regretting saying, "where they belong," but there's no taking words back. I gave Mulder an apologetic glance, but he shook his head and the corner of his mouth turned up. He understood.

Frohike chimed in with enthusiasm, "we already thought of that, Scully. Byers put together some software to help you out with it." I looked over to Byers who was sitting away from the table, staring at the red residue left in his empty wine glass.

"Byers," I said, "you're awfully quiet. Is something…"

Langley immediately jumped in, "he thought he had a lead on his molar pulling princess, but it turned out to be a bust. He's been bummed all day."

So, Byers was still holding out hope that he would find Suzanne Modeski someday. Mulder looked up from his contemplation of an image of central Illinois.

"Molar pulling princess? This I gotta hear."

Frohike and Langley launched into the story of the mysterious and beautiful scientist and how the Lone Gunmen had met each other and Mulder. Byers got up from the table and grabbed a laptop. I followed him and we sat together on couch.

"I'll help you with this, Scully. It's not the best program I've written. I didn't have time to clean it up for user-friendliness." He was nearly forlorn looking. And I put a hand out to him and rested it on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Byers."

"It's okay, Scully. Just when I think I should give up, I'm given another false hope. It's time to put an end to it. She's likely dead and then men who took her are above the law." I took his other shoulder and turned him toward me. This poor man had his world yanked out from underneath him. I could relate. I put my hand to his cheek to make him look me in the eyes.

"Never give up on a miracle, Byers, never," I smiled at him and brushed a kiss on his forehead. We spent the next hour or so absorbed in listing cities and towns close to coordinates that had been plotted on the satellite images. I emailed the list to Agent Doggett with a brief explanation that "kidnap victims" may be found in hospitals in or around the places listed. I promised I would explain more in the morning, but that if he wanted to, he could get started putting out feelers tonight.

I leaned back from the keyboard and stretched out with my feet under the coffee table and my hands on top of head, leaning against the back of the couch. I was tired and said as much to Byers. I laughed a bit as I added, "Kung Fu spying is hard work." Byers finally smiled and gave a bit of a chuckled. He turned so that he was leaning on the arm of the couch and looked away from me, then back and said,

"Does Mulder know?"

I yawned and replied, "Know what?"

Byers narrowed his eyes and gave a pointed nod at my belly. I stiffened, sat up and croaked,

"How?... No, he doesn't. How the hell do you know?" A million thoughts of government databases, underground filing systems and suspicions toward Skinner and my OB raced through my mind. Byers scooted closer to me, but he looked scared.

"I… I may not be very good at talking to women, Scully. But, I pay attention. Not having a lot to say gives me time to take in a lot more than those two," he nodded toward the dining room. "You, uh, you…" he stammered, he really wasn't good at talking to women. "You look beautiful, Scully. I'm happy for you."

I smiled at him, "thanks Byers. You know what I said about never giving up on a miracle?" He nodded. "Mulder said that to me once. I had given up on having a baby of my own. He was right. Maybe your miracle is still waiting for you too."

"Maybe, Scully, I hope you're right." And with that, he went to join the boys in whatever geek-a-rific game they had spread over my table. I listened to the sounds of their amiable insults and gruff laughter. It was soothing to hear relaxed, fun voices again. I lay down on the couch and let the lullaby of men at play carry me off to sleep.

When I woke, Mulder was thumbing my hair behind my ear and whispering my name.

"Dana, wake up." He cupped my cheek in his big hand and drew a thumb across my eyebrow. I sighed and put my hand to his, turned my face into his hand and kissed his palm. I finally opened my eyes to see his hazel ones gone soft and inviting.

"It's late. You should lock up behind me, I'm gonna go." He leaned the few more inches necessary to brush his lips on my cheek. I turned my head again and our lips met. I felt him stiffen in surprise, but then he relaxed again and took my mouth with his. Warm desire spread through my body and pooled deep in my belly. I broke the kiss but held the back of his head and pressed our foreheads together.

"Don't go," I whispered. I knew the time wasn't right to quench the desires of my body, but I also didn't want to be alone, and I didn't think Mulder did either. He nuzzled his face i into my neck and whispered back,

"I'll never leave."

We spent that night chastely dressed, but in each other's arms warm and safe.

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_Next up... Doggett reports to Kersch & Scully's strategy yields results..._


	12. The Guilty Don't Always Flee

_Another A/N just cuz I like to talk to you guys: Haha, no really, this should have probably been two chapters, but I got pretty into it and wanted to get it all up soon. I worked pretty hard on this one, so definitely tell me what you think! Thanks for your support and your continued enthusiasm for this crazy story!_

* * *

After only a bit of discussion with Mulder the next morning, we agreed that he should accompany me to the Hoover building and have a look around his office and read some case files. I waited at his apartment for him to complete his ablutions. But, I wasn't good at waiting. I went to his bedroom and picked out a suit and tie for him to wear. I glanced at myself in the full length mirror and as I turned to the side to check the effectiveness of sucking in my gut, something caught my eye in the mirror behind me.

I turned and looked up to see that Mulder had tacked a white sheet to the ceiling to cover the mirror over his bed. I was not at all sure what to make of this. The décor of the bedroom hadn't been Mulder's doing, but other than some eye rolling, he resigned himself to it. It had never bothered him enough to do anything about it before. I marveled, for the thousandth time, at how much his past, or anyone's, shaped the personality.

I heard Mulder enter the room while I was still standing, hands on hips, looking up the sheet. I turned to say something to him, but words caught in my throat at the vision standing at the foot of the bed. With dark hair still dripping, a freshly shaven face, and droplets of water still rolling from firm shoulders down the muscular planes of his body, he was beautiful. I realized I was staring, mouth open, at a half-naked man and felt my color rising. As I took purposeful steps toward the bedroom door, I let him know what I had been doing in his bedroom.

"I, uh, I laid out a suit for you. It looks like it might have dry cleaned fairly recently." I was relieved to reach the threshold of the door and made my way into the living room.

"Thanks, Dana," Mulder called after me, an obvious smile in his voice. I sat down on the hard leather couch, smoothed my skirt over my knees with damp palms and let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding in a quiet whistle. It was so like Mulder to get enjoyment out my obvious and somewhat embarrassing reactions to him. _Bastard_, I thought and sat patiently waiting.

….

When we arrived at the Hoover building, we were both surprised when Mulder knew exactly where he was going. I let him lead the way down the basement office. We were exchanging remarks regarding the oddity of remembering where to find his office, but little else, when we entered said office to find Agent Doggett lounging in the guest chair. Doggett got up from his seat and approached Mulder with an outstretched hand.

"Good to see you up and about, Agent Mulder." The two men shook hands and Mulder thanked him. After which a slightly awkward feeling ensued. I gestured toward the filing cabinets to indicate Mulder had the run of the office to peruse its contents. I went with him to the cabinets and pulled a few choice files. I set these on the corner of Mulder's desk and nodded to them.

"Pfaster, Tooms, and Modell are good places for you to start. I think they'll give you a good overview of the kinds of cases the X-Files deals in." Mulder flipped over the cover of the Tooms file and flipped through several of the crime scene photos.

"Cases other than alien abductions, you mean?"

I nodded. "The X-Files isn't all little gray men and government conspiracies. Its cases like these three that keep us in business." Doggett gave a little snort and I gave him a pointed stare. I retuned my attention to Mulder who had begun reading the case report on Tooms. I pulled out the chair from his desk and at my indication that he should, he sat without taking his eyes off of the jagged handwriting within the file.

"What brings you to the basement again, Agent Doggett?" I turned to the address Doggett who had taken up a position by the door. With a nod of his head, he gestured that we should speak outside.

"First of all, Kersch requested our presence in his office. I don't think he's the pat-on-the-back kind of guy, so we're probably in for an ass chewing. What for? I have no idea. And, Agent Scully, I'd like to know how you came upon that list of cities you sent me last night. If you could enlighten me into your investigative techniques that narrowed our search for these victims from the North American continent down to a few specific areas, I'd really appreciate it." I had been leaning against a filing cabinet in the dark hallway listening to Agent Doggett's veritable diatribe with my arms crossed in front of me. At his conclusion, I pushed off from cabinet and put my head back into the office.

"Mulder, I need to go up for a meeting with Deputy Director Kersch."

He didn't look up at me, but replied with a distant, "Sure, Scully, I'll be here. Take your time." I closed the door and headed for the elevator with Doggett on my heal. Once in the relative privacy of the metal box, I turned to Agent Doggett and made full eye contact.

"I understand your curiosity, but I want you to think about what I'm about tell you before you demand any further information." He nodded his acquiescence and I continued. "I put together that list using information that I obtained from a source outside of the Bureau. This source has a purpose and method that are well outside of the FBI's purview and sanctions. I understand your desire to solve this case, but you should think about your future as well. You can use the information from this source without having to know exactly where it came from. Then you can forget it and move on with your career. You don't have to take unnecessary risks that affect your future here at the Bureau."

Doggett studied me with a raised eyebrow.

"So you're saying that I should just be happy when you throw me a bone and not wonder about the validity of the information. I shouldn't take any risks where _my_ career is concerned, but you're free to sneak around in dark allies getting information from people who break the law to get it. Is that about right, Agent Scully?"

I wanted to laugh at his description of the intimate night among friends at my apartment last night as sneaking around in dark allies. But, I kept my face rigid in response to his tense and demanding demeanor.

"You're right about Kersch. He's not a-pat-on-the-back kind. He's the ruin you kind." The elevator doors opened to the fourth floor and we stepped out into a busy hallway with agents in suits talking and walking up and down the utilitarian thoroughfare.

….

Kersch wasn't in his office when we arrived, but his secretary let us through to await our forty lashes for whatever perceived indiscretion we had committed. Doggett and I sat side by side, neither of us trusting our surroundings enough to resume the conversation we had started on the elevator ride.

I noted that the chairs in the Deputy Director's office were covered with real leather rather than the standard vinyl of Assistant Director Skinner's office chairs. I turned to Doggett to tell him as much, just an observation to pass the time. But, when I looked at him he was staring at me. I shut my mouth, raised an eyebrow and said,

"What?"

Doggett shifted in his seat and started in on me again.

"You know what, Agent Scully. I really don't understand you. I didn't buy the crap people told me about you and Mulder. I wanted to make up my own mind. But, I'm not sure they were far off the mark. You were a straight laced agent before you hooked up with Mulder and became Mrs. Spooky. What are you so afraid of that you're not willing to go through normal FBI channels to get the information that you want?"

I lowered my quizzical eyebrow and sighed. He said he had read all the files in the X-Files office. Maybe he didn't read them carefully enough to understand that not everyone who wears a badge can be trusted.

"First of all," I said grimly, "I'm not sure anyone has ever actually called me Mrs. Spooky to my face. Congratulations, you're the first to break the asshole barrier with me. Second, do you trust Kersch? I sure as hell don't. I would have to go through him, the director of the FBI, NASA and the NRO to get information that would have been severely outdated and thus useless by the time I cut through the red tape and layers of bureaucracy to have them tell me that its classified."

Before Doggett could begin the reply I could see forming in his thoughts, the door opened to admit Deputy Director Kersch. He strode toward his desk and told us to remain seated even though neither of us had made a move to stand in his presence.

"Agents, thank you for your patience. I know you have much to do, I'm sorry I kept you waiting." He didn't sound sorry at all, but we both accepted the apology as though it bore a resemblance to authentic. "Agent Scully, how is Agent Mulder progressing in his recovery?"

I gave Kersch a rundown of Mulder's physical health, which was quite good despite the vitamin deficiencies and trauma that had been inflicted on him. I moved on to explain that Mulder's psychological state was, although not permanent, persisting.

"Is Agent Mulder showing any signs of being able to aid us in the investigation into his kidnapping?" Kersch asked.

"No sir, I'm afraid that what happened to Mulder while he was missing may never return to him. However, his psychiatrist is optimistic that he will come out of the dissociative state soon. From what I have observed in Agent Mulder's behavior and capabilities, I agree. He's beginning to recall places, if not actions and people. Recovering a narrative of his life will most likely happen all at once. These gradual improvements are indicative activity in a slightly different region of the brain than long term narrative memory. They are more "autopilot" things that he's done on a daily basis for years." I sat back in my seat to indicate that my report on Mulder's status was at its conclusion.

"I'm glad to hear all of that, Agent Scully. If Agent Mulder should recall anything that might help us find out who took him and held him, he will of course, come directly to us so we can put an end to this investigation." I nodded and Kersch moved on to Doggett.

There were, of course, questions about the progress of the investigation, leads that had been exhausted, and the normal law enforcement talking in circles that characterizes cold cases. What Kersch had on his agenda for us next wasn't anything I could have predicted. It seemed he was watching the case closer than anyone would have guessed.

"Now, Agents, there's a matter that concerns me. Reports of breeches of security here at the FBI, which my office is looking into, at the NRO and at NASA came across my desk yesterday morning." I sat up straighter in my chair, hoping that I was conveying the due concern these events would cause in an Agent of the first government program on that list. Doggett bit though.

"What kind of security breeches are these, sir?"

"Remote breeches, Agent Doggett. You wouldn't happen to have any insight into the how and why of such a thing, would you?"

Doggett shook his head and asked, "Remote breech, sir? What exactly does that mean?"

I thought I had better add something to the conversation rather than sit there with my mouth possibly hanging open.

"Computer hacks, Agent Doggett. Someone hacked into these systems using a computer and an internet connection. Is that right, sir?" I made eye contact with Kersch and kept my face in a concerned look.

"Well, then," Doggett said, "Assuming that they found information they were looking for, is there a way to tell that? Can we build an investigation based on what they were looking for and possibly got access to?"

My hands were twitching and I desperately wanted to sit on them to hide evidence of my guilt. Doggett, one of the best cops I had ever met was on the trail already.

"Well, Agent Doggett," Kersch nearly sneered at the man, "I'm glad you're interested in that. The information that was downloaded from these networks happens to be satellite images. These images correspond with locations that _you_ began investigating yesterday evening." Doggett's face fell, but to his credit he didn't shoot me any incriminating looks. "You made phone calls from the basement office between nine pm and ten pm last night to hospitals located within the geographic areas which would have been shown on two of the four stolen images."

I had my hands folded tightly in my lap, my nails digging into my palms. My face started tingling. There was nothing I could do but sit there and wait for the proverbial axe to fall. I could hear the words echoing in my buzzing head, _I got a list of places from Agent Scully._ But the words never came. I looked at Doggett trying to keep any trace of pleading from showing on my face. Doggett looked genuinely confused and his next words nearly flattened me more than the axe would have.

"Well, sir, I don't have any explanation for that at all. I was simply following a hunch regarding the others who were taken along with Agent Mulder. I tracked family members of the missing people to those locations I called. Mulder was returned close to where people he knew would find him. I thought whoever is committing these abductions might do the same for the other victims." Then Doggett shot me a look that clearly said, _you will explain yourself… later._ I took a deep breath as unobtrusively as I could and unclenched my hands.

"Agent Scully," Kersch addressed me and I looked him in the eyes, "will you excuse Agent Doggett and myself? We have some business to attend to and I believe I'm keeping you from your work."

I nodded and said, "Yes, sir." I was thankful my voice sounded strong, not the whisper I was afraid was going to come out of my mouth. I stood, turned and left without looking at either of the two men again.

Once back out in the hallway, my hands roamed over my body looking for my cell phone, but all I encountered was the gun at my back. I had left my cell in the basement. I had to call the Gunmen and tell them to enact whatever doomsday plans they had. I was walking as fast as I could without drawing attention to myself. My heart was pounding and my face was still numb. I licked dry lips and nearly screamed when Skinner's head popped out of his office door a few feet in front of me.

"Agent Scully, come in here. I need to speak with you." Skinner reached out and grabbed my elbow.

"I can't, sir, not now. I have…. There's something I have to take care of." I tried to extricate myself from his grasp, but his hand was like iron on my arm and he drew me towards him to let me know that I didn't have an option.

"It's important, Agency Sully. Come in. Now."

Once in the safety of his inner office, he let go of my arm. Without that support, I had to hold onto the back of one of the vinyl covered chairs to keep my balance.

"Sir, I have to get in touch with the Gunmen. Kersch somehow got intelligence on the hacks they did to get satellite photos. I have to warn them." I straightened up and looked Skinner full in the face trying to indicate the seriousness of the matter. "I will _not_ let them go down for something they did for me."

Skinner had walked away from me, but strode back across the room and this time took me by both upper arms and steered me in front the chair I had been leaning on.

"Jesus, Scully, sit down before you fall down. The Gunmen are safe. They left a digital trail so long, no one's cyber unit will unravel it before the Second Coming."

"Are you sure?" I asked anxiously.

"Yes, I'm sure. Relax, they know what they're doing and how not to get caught doing it."

I breathed a sigh of relief and stood back up. I was calming down, but was still too jittery to sit down. I paced the room a bit and then kicked off my customary three inch heels that were now pinching my feet uncomfortably. Then, I unbuttoned my black blazer and slung in over the back of the chair I had occupied a few moments earlier and resumed my pacing, hands on hips. Even with the Gunmen safe, I was still going to have to deal with Agent Doggett. And I was certain that wasn't going to be pleasant. Skinner's voice broke into my worrying thoughts about that encounter.

"Make yourself at home, Agent," his words dripped with sarcasm. But when I looked at him his lips held the half smile he utilized in moments of fatherly kindness. He had reclined a bit in his chair as he watched me pace his office. I could tell he was waiting for me to sit back down and I remembered that he had said he needed to speak with me. I still couldn't sit, though. Instead I stopped in front of his desk and turned to face him with arms crossed to hide that my hands were still shaking.

"What did you want to see me about, sir?"

* * *

_Next Up... Scully's techniques yield results & Evil Incarnate returns... again_

…


	13. Mell of a Hess

_a/n: Hey, all! Thanks for the reviews on ch 12! For ppl who crave MSR, its coming in a big way in the next chapter, I promise! For those of you who prefer things other than MSR, how's it going for you? Moving along? Too slow? Too fast? I'm trying to take into account the pace and flow of an average episode. Let me know how I'm doing. Thanks again! Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"Well, Agent," Skinner began, sitting up straighter in his chair. "An order came across my desk this morning that concerns you and the X-Files."  
I rolled my eyes with thoughts of budgets and audits dancing in my head. "What now," I replied. "Mulder already offered for us to share hotel rooms to save money."

"You're not going to be feeling so funny when I tell you that what came across my desk is a reassignment for Agent John Doggett. Kersch has assigned him to the X-Files."

My mouth fell open but I quickly snapped it shut. I should have seen it coming, well, I had seen it coming. I warned Agent Doggett when he made his intentions of pursuing his investigation into Mulder's abduction crystal clear to me. I just hadn't expected it to happen so fast.

"With Mulder still out of commission, Kersch believes you need a partner."

"With all due respect, Sir, you know that's bull. Kersch is doing this to punish Agent Doggett for doing his job and doing it well. He's removing the competition. It has nothing to do with me or Mulder." I sat down in the vinyl chair again, disgusted. Doggett was a good Agent, probably one of the best. He didn't deserve this.

"Scully," Skinner's tone had softened. "How much longer are we going to do this?"

I didn't know what he meant and said as much.

"Mulder has been found and he's on the mend. I think you need to look at Doggett's reassignment as assurance that the X-Files will stay up and running in your absence."

"My absence? I'm not going anywhere, yet. Doggett can't run the investigation into Mulder's disappearance by himself, he can't run a regular X-File investigation by himself. He may have read those files, but he doesn't have the first clue about how to solve those cases. Skinner, I don't even know that I could do it without Mulder." I couldn't figure out what else to say, other than, "With both of us out of the way, they will have their best opportunity at shutting down the X-Files for good. You know that."

"I do know that, Scully. But I also know that they will have my ass and yours in a sling if they discover your pregnancy through any channel other my report regarding my reasons for reassigning you. I'd like to avoid the embarrassment for both of us. Time isn't on your side, Dana. No amount of silence will protect your position here when that swollen belly gets bigger." Skinner was no longer looking me in the face, but had his eyes fixed on my midsection. I realized I had completely relaxed my abdominal muscles during our conversation and dropped my hand to the undeniable bulge beneath my black skirt.

"How far along are you, Dana?" Skinner's eyes were back on mine and I blinked. I wasn't honestly sure, my life style didn't exactly accommodate remembering things like the first day of the last menstrual cycle and my first appointment with an obstetrician had only confirmed the pregnancy through blood work and finding that quick, tiny heartbeat. After having been told I would never have a child and all the failed attempts at IVF with my recovered ova, I had no reason to believe pregnancy was possible.

"I'm not sure, sir, I don't know exactly when it happened," I confessed.

"Not sure? I would think that the day of your last IVF treatment would be fairly exact." It wasn't until then that I realized, Skinner really didn't know. I flushed with embarrassment and looked away from his penetrating and understandably confused gaze. I took a deep breath and prepared to sell out Mulder and myself. I stood again and walked to where I had left my shoes to avoid looking my boss in the face as I admitted,

"I didn't conceive through the IVF treatments, Sir. I... we gave up on that avenue early in the spring. When you came to tell me that Mulder," I had to swallow to keep from choking on the words, "that he had been taken, I told you that I was having a hard time explaining it. I was having a hard time, Sir, because it appears that I conceived naturally."

I finally looked up from the floor to try to read Skinner's face, to try to decipher his reaction. He looked dumbfounded with eyebrows well above the rim of his round glasses and mouth slightly open. He didn't say a word or change expression as I studied his features. The beep of the intercom on his desk snapped him out of it and his secretary's voice filled the charged air in the room,

"Skinner, Sir, Agent Doggett is here to see you." Skinner blinked several times and cleared his throat gently.

"Put your jacket back on, Agent Scully." Skinner hit the button on the intercom and beckoned Doggett to enter his office.

I'm not sure what I was expecting out of Agent Doggett when he entered the inner office, but I knew what I had to do. As soon as the customary greetings had been done, I took my seat next to Agent Doggett in front of Skinner's desk and began my apology,

"Agent Doggett, I am very sorry. If I had had any inkling that my actions and my source's actions would come back on you, I never..."

"Scully," Doggett interrupted. "I appreciate your apology, but do we want to go into this now? Here?" He gave a jerk of his strong chin at Skinner.

"Agent Doggett, I have been discussing this matter with Agent Scully. I'm aware of the actions she's taken and in light of your reassignment I want to assure you that from here on out Agent Scully will be forthcoming with information of this nature. Isn't that right, Agent Scully?" Skinner had his serious, Assistant Director of the F-B-I demeanor on. Even after all we'd been through in the last months that brought us closer, it still made me shrink in my chair a bit.

"Of course, sir," I murmured. I still had a sinking feeling at my mistake. I wanted to tuck my tail, so to conquer the need to curl into a ball in mortification, I said, "I assume, sir, that our first priority on the X-Files remains the investigation that Agent Doggett began when Kersch assigned him to the manhunt for Agent Mulder."

Skinner nodded, "I expect regular updates on that investigation and you will be assigned other cases as they come along. I have no reason to believe, at this juncture, that the case of Mulder's abduction will be open and shut. I've come to understand that X-Files are rarely straight forward cases and now that this is officially an X-File, I expect no different." Which was Skinners way of saying that he knows that extreme possibilities and explanations take time.

Doggett and I simultaneously intoned a serious, "Yes, sir."

I still felt a sense of responsibility for having landed a bright agent, who was on the fast track, in the FBI's most unwanted. When I tried to apologize for my actions and secrecy again on the elevator ride back down to the basement, Doggett wouldn't have any of it.

"Look, Agent Scully, you're sorry, I get it and I appreciate it. But, let's move on. I'm here to do a job, not to get a pat on the back from anyone. There's just one thing, though. We're gonna be out in the field together. I've got your back, I hope you trust in that, but you've got to have mine too and not just when guns are drawn. I gotta know what you're up to so I can keep my word on having your back. Okay? No more secrets, no more lies." I, of course, immediately thought of the biggest secret I was keeping. Not quite the size of bread box... yet.

"I understand, Agent Doggett. I'll have your back as well. You can count on it. There are things, however, that I prefer to keep in the realm of my private life. I hope you can understand that." He nodded and strode off the elevator toward the office we now shared.

We found Mulder, still engrossed in files, jacket-less, tie-less, and looking a bit the worse for wear. Some of the file cabinet drawers stood open and there were files piled on each corner of his desk. I looked to the tab of the file he was currently pouring over and thought, _dammit! Does everyone in the world have to zero in on that particular file?_ The tab read 'Scully, Dana K."

Mulder hadn't noticed our entrance, involved as he was in whatever detail of my file he was studying. I cleared my throat and he jerked his head up, eyes wide in surprise and flipped the file closed. I took it from him, looked briefly at its cover that also sported my name, date of birth, and the date the file had been opened.

"Scully," Mulder started guiltily, "how was the meeting with the boss?"  
Doggett and I went through a quick rundown of the events that occurred on the fourth floor. Mulder went through a range of reactions: from worried, to puzzled, to relieved and ended on pensive.

"So, when I..." he cleared his throat, "when I can return to work...?" He hadn't actually asked the question, but there was definite question in his tone.

"I don't know, Mulder, I really don't," I said gently. I looked to Doggett and, on cue, he delivered.

"Hey, Agents, I'm not here to replace either of you. I don't think I could if I wanted to. This is your show, I'm just here to help however I can and figure out what the hell is going on with these abductions. That's it. No funny business, no takeovers."

"Thank you, Agent Doggett," I said and let my relief and a warmth toward him show in my eyes. I didn't want to like this man, I didn't want to trust him. But I was being forced to trust him now as my partner and he was making it harder and harder to dislike him. I was beginning to have to admit to myself that John Doggett wasn't just a good cop and a good FBI agent: he was a good man as well.

Mulder stood from his chair behind his desk and echoed the gesture Doggett had given him earlier. He stretched his hand out to my new partner and they shook, both with firm grips.

"I'm looking forward to working you when I'm back in commission, Agent Doggett."

We all lingered a bit after this declaration, none of us quite knowing what to do or say next. A wave of nausea came over me and I was deciding whether or not another run for the bathroom was in my immediate future when Doggett took control of the situation again.

"Well, its after lunch time and its been a long week," he gestured at the clock which read 1:20. _Well no wonder I feel awful,_ I thought. I hadn't eaten since a quick breakfast of dry toast and orange juice. With the extreme oddity of pregnancy that I still wasn't used to, the thought of food made me instantly ravenous and I nearly swayed with the sudden feeling of hunger. My stomach, in agreement with the sentiments of my brain, gave an embarrassing gurgle of protest at its empty state. Mulder, bless the man, put a big hand to his trim gut and said,

"Well, I'm obviously starving. Let's get some lunch, hey?"

Doggett looked skeptical but let the obvious gallantry stand.

"I was going to say, its been a long week. Let's call it a day and regroup on Monday. Unless, Agent Scully, you have anything pressing for me to take care of before end of business?" I was more than relieved to hear this suggestion. It _had_ been a long week and I had been formulating plans for the weekend in the back of my mind.

"No, Agent, I don't think we have anything pressing. For now, I think we're waiting and hoping that our leads on locations bare fruit. Feel free to call if you need anything." I began gathering my belongings and Mulder was swinging his suit jacket back on. We were nearly out the door when Doggett called,

"You do the same, Agent Scully, if you need anything."

I leaned against the back of the elevator, eyes closed, for the short ride up to the ground floor. I opened my eyes to find Mulder looking at me in a bemused sort of way. I smiled a bit shyly in his direction.

"Thanks for covering for me, " I let my smile widen.

"Hey, no problem, chivalry isn't dead after all, just kind of moldy. You know you..." The elevator gave a bit of lurch when it stopped at our desired floor and I staggered a bit with the unexpected motion. "Hey, Scully," Mulder took my elbow to steady me, an action I was grateful for. "You okay there?"

"Yeah," I assured him, brushing a fallen lock of hair from my eye. "I'm fine, Mulder, thanks. Have you noticed that you've stopped calling me 'Dana'? You've called me 'Scully' since we got here this morning." Mulder looked a little puzzled, but then his face cleared to understanding.

"Yeah, yeah, I have been calling you Scully. I don't know, it just came out and then felt natural. Did you want me to keep calling you 'Dana'?" he asked, obviously concerned that he had said or did something I didn't appreciate.

"No, definitely not. Actually, it bothered me a bit when you called me by my first name." We were headed for my car in the garage and with the usual way of concrete structures, it was much warmer in there that outside. I unbuttoned and slid out of my jacket again as we walked and Mulder did the same.

"You know, I think the bureau prefers that agents address each other by surnames to keep things professional and impersonal. But..."

Mulder interrupted me, "but that didn't work out so well for us?" I smiled up at him and turned to unlock the diver's door of my car. When we met again inside the confines of my sedan, our hands automatically intertwined over the console and we met in the middle for a brief, soft meeting of our lips. I inhaled the familiar scent of him and smiled.

"No, no it didn't work for us at all," I reluctantly pulled my hand from his grasp and started the car.

* * *

_Up Next... A trip to New England?, A break in the case, oh and that evil stuff I mentioned last chapter. ;)_


	14. Getting on Just Fine

_a/n: Review, but try not to be too mean. Have I mentioned I've never written anything like this before? And, I would like to apologize in advance. I was surprised too... sort of. But this is the MSR-filled chapter I promised the other day._

* * *

Mulder and I settled on a small café near my apartment for lunch. I was amused to see Mulder glance at the menu, toss it aside and order a burger with everything and a side of fries. Again, something so typically 'Mulder' that I could hardly believe he didn't have access to his life's memories. We chatted about some of the case files he had read over as we waited for our food. Mulder was intrigued, to say the least, and was almost excited at the prospect of learning more.

"I noticed you brought a file with you from the office," I said, "which one?" He glanced away and some of the exuberance that had characterized the last few minutes ebbed. That told me which file it had been before he answered,

"My sister's," his voice was so quiet that if I hadn't known what he was going to say, I may not have heard his reply. I reached out a hand across the wooden to him and he took it without hesitation.

"Mulder," I began, but he cut in immediately.

"Scully, I read your file, you saw that. I didn't get through everything in it, but it was plenty to tell me that I've put you through hell." He looked away from me and out the café's window as if searching for words. "I need to know why I allowed you, of all people, Scully, _you_ to be taken, to be shot at… For Christ's sake, Scully you had to shoot _me_ because of this, this insane quest I've been on. Why?" He brought his face back around to look at me and my heart nearly broke again.

The thing inside of him that was broken the night his sister was taken was smashed to pieces again. My feeling of sorrow and anguish for him evaporated so quickly it startled even me. I jerked my hand back to my side of the table and laid into him.

"Dammit, Mulder, none of those things are your fault. _I_ have a say in what happens in my life more so that you ever have. If you're responsible for all the terrible things that have happened then who is responsible for all the wonderful things that have happened? Is it you? No, it's not you. Hell, Mulder, it's not even me who's responsible." _Holy God, where did that come from?_ I thought.

It was my turn to look away and regroup. I was thinking furiously of a way to explain to him the conclusions that I had come to so recently myself. "The only people who are responsible for the unjust things that have been done to us are the people who built their lives and careers and the secrets and lies of their trade. Those men are dead, not by my hand or yours, but they were repaid the evil they willingly perpetrated on their families and other innocent people."

The waitress, with a server's usual talent, brought us our lunch. We both quietly thanked her, but continued to stare at each other over our plates. Mulder nodded a few times, slowly and fished for my hand under the table. I found it and with him gripping my fingers realized that I alone couldn't absolve him of his perceived sins. He had to find that within himself.

"I still have to know, Scully," his tone pleaded for my understanding and I granted it.

"I know," I whispered.

I had finished my turkey club and had started picking at Mulder's discarded lettuce and tomato before either of us spoke again. I noted that he still had nearly half a sandwich and most of his fries and resolved to try not to eat like a wild animal in the future.

"So, Mulder, do you have any big plans for the weekend," I asked, infusing a playful tone to my query.

"None that don't involve you, Scully," he smiled around a bite of ground beef and bun. "What did you have in mind?"

If he wanted to know what had happened the night of sister's disappearance and the nature of the subsequent investigation, I deduced that perhaps, it was a good idea for him to visit his childhood home, or rather homes.

"I thought we could go up to New England and hang around some of your old stomping grounds. The summer house your parents kept at Quonochontaug hasn't sold yet." Mulder's eyebrows were raised in a very inviting manner, so I continued with a slight coyness, "we could take the ferry over to the Vineyard, get some really good seafood," I raised one of my eyebrows and lifted a corner of my mouth. "Maybe take a walk on the beach."

Mulder swallowed a fry and gave me a coy half smile of his own, "Why Agent Scully, are you inviting me to go away with you for the weekend?"

I snaked my hand out and snagged a cold fry from his plate. I sat back in my seat with it poised over my mouth and said, "Yes, Agent Mulder, yes I do believe I am." I popped the fry in my mouth and slid out from my seat to pay for our meals.

Our playful mood followed us back to my apartment. We had a silent mutual understanding that we both preferred not to touch on matters that caused grief or angst between us. If we were to step on the hallowed ground of his past in the days to come, we needed a firm foothold on the enjoyment of each other's company to see us through it.

Mulder took another look at the printed images the Gunmen had provided us with yesterday while I, thankfully, retired to my bedroom to change my clothes. I sighed with relief as the zipper of my skirt released my, as Skinner had so delicately put it, swollen belly. With my decidedly high level of anxiety at the time, I hadn't thought to be offended by his less than flattering description of my physique. I dug out another pair of yoga pants and baggy t-shirt as a quick glance in the mirror told me I didn't have cause to be offended: it had simply been an accurate observation. I made a mental note to invite my mother to go maternity clothes shopping and soon.

I found Mulder, leaning over the table looking at the images the Gunmen had provided. He looked up at my entrance, gave me an up and down and remarked,

"You look way more comfortable than I feel. Looks as though we're relaxing this afternoon." He started pulling at his tie and undid the top button of his shirt as he made his way toward the living room. I couldn't say what possessed me to do it, but I stepped in front of him and reached my hands to assist him with the task of undoing the knot at his throat. He stood, hands on hips as I undid the loops of the tie and let the silk slide through my fingers and rested the smooth cotton of his shirt. I was on the verge of feeling suddenly shy when his hands came up from his sides, one rested on my right hand, over his heart, the other cupped my cheek. Our eyes met in the instant before our lips and I saw my own desires and fears reflected in those beautiful green orbits.

As we opened our mouths to each other, our hands began roaming. I was holding him to me, a hand pressed to the back of his neck, my fingers toying with soft, short brown hair at the base of his skull. Mulder's arms came around me and I swayed into him, our bodies meeting from chest to thighs. My body, rather obviously, had no objections to transpiring events. My mind still held reservations, however. _We shouldn't_, I thought, _he's so vulnerable. _Doubts vanished and my internal monologue was silenced when Mulder slid his hands under the back of my long t-shirt.

All higher level cognitive abilities effectively disabled, I backed toward the couch and pulled him along with me. He was all too willing to go and turned so that we ended with Mulder seated comfortably on the center cushion. I placed one knee on either side of his narrow hips and began dealing with the rest of the buttons on his shirt while continuing an exploration of his soft mouth. Mulder's big hands resumed their own exploration of the now goose pebbled flesh of my back. I vaguely heard clicking sounds behind me, but any intention of turning away from the man under me melted as his hands circled around my rib cage and…

A high pitched and surprised voice rang out from the vicinity the door, "Oh! Dana! I'm so sorry, I…" I practically leapt off Mulder's lap and whirled to find my mother just over the threshold, mouth open, shopping bags in hand and face reddening by the moment. All the blood that had been previous engaged elsewhere began rushing to my own face. Hand to my heaving chest, I breathed,

"Mom, what…" But Mulder spoke up behind me.

"Mrs. Scully, how are you?" I turned back to see that Mulder had already snatched up a throw pillow which was strategically placed in his lap. He should absolutely no sign of having been startled or embarrassed. I was amazed. My mother peered around me and beamed at Mulder.

"Fox! It's so good to see you. How are you feeling? Is Dana taking good care of you?" My mother came the rest of the way into my apartment, deposited the shopping bags on the floor near the kitchen and with every evidence of matching Mulder's sangfroid, sank into the club chair opposite Mulder on the couch.

"Of course she is, Mrs. Scully. Don't you doubt that for a minute. Your daughter may be a doctor, but she also has a talent for nursing recently injured men." They both looked up at me, still standing rooted to the floor, one hand on my hip, the other still clutched my chest, holding my intimate apparel in place.

"Dana, honey, I brought you some things from a new organic market in Annapolis. I know you're too busy to shop for good food and I don't mean to be pushy, but you…

"Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it," I interrupted. "Will you help me put it away?" I finally moved from the middle of the living room and led my mom into the kitchen. I called back to Mulder, "There's a pair of jeans of yours in the chest in my bedroom, if you want to change."

"You're the best, Scully," he said, but didn't yet move from his spot on the couch.

Once in the relative privacy of the kitchen, I arranged my disordered unmentionables and ran my hands through my hair. Feeling a bit exasperated, I began rummaging through the two paper bags Mom had set on the counter. My mom came and stood close to me and whispered,

"I really am sorry. I thought you'd still be at work. But, I'm glad you and Fox are getting on well. It took you both long enough." She glanced over her shoulder to see that Mulder had finally been able to move from the couch. We heard the sound of my bedroom door closing and Mom pulled me into a quick hug, which I only half reciprocated, stunned as I was at her expectation of me showing affection. She backed up took me by both shoulders, studying my face.

"Now let me get a look at you," and she began gushing again. "I assume you haven't told Fox about the baby. But, oh, Dana you're so beautiful. Of course that shirt you're wearing is less than flattering." I laughed and she looked surprised, but then her face softened again.

"Thanks for the compliment on my wardrobe, Mom. I was thinking, earlier, that you, uh, that you and I could maybe," I wasn't good at suggesting bonding time, obviously. "Well I need some clothes that fit; I thought maybe you'd want to come along and…" I got jerked into another hug and did my best this time, wrapping my arms loosely around my mother's shoulders.

"I'd love to." Mom sighed and then reached for offending garment saying, "now, let me see. You'll need things in a few different sizes…" I couldn't help it, I grabbed her wrist to keep her from taking ahold the shirt I wore with a startled,

"Mom!" A look of momentary hurt crossed her features and I realized what I was doing and slackened my grip. Instead of giving her back her hand entirely, I guided it to the swell of my belly and pressed my own hand on top of hers. We stood for a moment, heads down, eyes on our hands and the evidence of her impending grandchild. When I raised my head, Mom was already looking at me, tears in her eyes and a smile on her face that I had seen too rarely.

"Thank you, Dana," she whispered then sniffed and brushed away the not yet fallen tears from her eyes with her slender, yet aged index fingers. She took another step back and gave me a sharp appraisal, as I leaned against the counter, hand still resting on my stomach. She gave a short snip of a laugh and added, "I see the t-shirt isn't a fashion statement. You _do_ need to shop."

Mulder returned from the bedroom looking more comfortable and the three of spent some time in companionable conversation. Mom couldn't help but tell stories about my childhood antics to Mulder who genuinely laughed. My mother adored Mulder and the feeling was becoming mutual again. She was the only person who could call him 'Fox' without getting a dirty look.

I was, of course, starting to feel sleepy and was starting to do my owl impression when Mom announced that she was leaving to meet a friend for dinner. With a kiss for me on the forehead and one for Mulder on the cheek, which he returned with a sweetness I had only seldom seen him display, we were left, once again to our own devices.

"So, what kind of goodies were bestowed upon us" Mulder asked with a hopeful look toward the kitchen.

"Tomatoes, radishes, spinach, kale…" I began a list of what I had unpacked from the brown paper bags and raised an eyebrow at Mulder. He had another question in response to this list,

"Thai, then?"

I nodded and grabbed the phone to call the closest place.

"Tell them it's for carryout," he said as he grabbed up his wallet and keys. "I'll pick it up on my way back."

"Where you going," I asked a bit suspiciously. Mulder turned back from the door, took a few short steps toward me and planted a kiss on my forehead.

"I have to feed my fish and I'll need some things for the weekend." Then he was out the door and gone. I ordered the food and with little hesitation determined that I had time for a short nap on the couch. I secretly enjoyed giving into bodily needs with the excuse that I _should_ do things like eat more, take it easy, and sleep when I felt tired. After all, I was doing it for the baby. Right?

I had just settled in my favorite cozy spot on the couch and was drifting off when the sound of my cell phone interrupted my pleasant thoughts of Mulder and I having each other all to ourselves for an entire weekend. I let an irritated groan, threw the crocheted blanket off and answered with a short,

"Scully." There was static in my ear and a familiar voice snapped me back into alertness and rang alarm bells in my brain.

"Agent Scully, I know you don't want to hear from me, but there are things that you need to understand. I'd like to have an opportunity to explain them to you." He sounded desperate, but I was more than irritated, I was furious and let my tone take on a dangerous edge when I replied,

"I know all I need to about you, Krycek."

…..


	15. No More Pad Thai

"You know less than you think, as usual, Scully," Alex Krycek's rasping voice had a hard edge. "Like it or not we're on the same team here. We need each other. When can you meet me?" It was more a demand than a question and I bristled further.

"We will never be on the same team. You sent Mulder into that forest and it nearly cost him his life. I don't need a damn thing from you," I said, nearly yelling the last bit. I could feel the venom in my voice and let it have full reign. Krycek's response was hushed and brisk.

"I gave Mulder exactly what he's been looking for. I didn't know what I was doing, but I'm well aware of the situation now. I don't like you and Mulder any more than you like me, but, trust me on this, Agent Scully, you need to know what I've learned. There are other women out there, just like you. We need to find them. I need your help and you need my information."

That took me aback and memories swam into my mind: the pale face of a friend imploring me not to give up, not to give in to the same cancer that was taking Betsy's life before my eyes. So, I took the bait. How could I not? "What other women?"

Krycek sighed in annoyance. "Other women who were taken, used for experiments, implanted with chips, left barren from the theft of their ovaries. They were given false hope of motherhood from a group of doctors who thought they got the gene sequence right; women who gave up, but now find themselves miraculously pregnant. Does that ring a bell, Agent Scully?"

I didn't bother asking how or why he knew, but obviously, this piece of shit, Alex Krycek really did have information that I would like to be privy to. Dammit to hell, I thought furiously. But, my fury was receding in favor of inevitable curiosity. I wanted to believe the conception of this child was just what Mulder had promised: a miracle. The thought of learning that our miracle would become part of the annals of the X-Files made my hands turn cold and shake.

"Where," was my only reply to his litany of tragedies that had befallen me and apparently others as well. I tightened my grip on the phone and squeezed my eyes closed to shut out the shifting, tilting room before me.

"Rock Creek, by the Beltway. What time?"

"Two am," I breathed before disconnecting the line.

…..

When Mulder returned, I wasn't sure I would be able to eat. I had been pacing my apartment, stomach in knots, thoughts whirling in my mind. But, the smell of the Pad Thai Mulder opened and slid across the table to me sealed the deal. I could eat and did so with abandon until I remembered my earlier mental note not to eat like an animal. I slowed my pace and my thoughts returned to whirl of faces of women, resigned and holding up small containers with tiny chips inside. But, there were dead. The MUFON women of Allentown, as far I could tell, had all perished of the cancer that had threatened my own life.

Then I recalled my investigations into Diana Fowley's work during her overseas sojourn. There were plenty of other MUFON groups. Had those women removed the chips in their necks? What had happened to them? I hadn't wanted to believe it at the time, but since my recovery, I had to admit that it appeared Mulder was right. The replacement of the chip had saved my life. But, did curing cancer have to do with unlikely pregnancies? I couldn't believe I was about to rely on Alex Krycek for answers. I replayed our conversation in my head yet again. He had said we were all given false hope by doctors. I had to assume that he meant Dr. Parenti and his colleagues. Doctors who would be in a position to treat women with fertility problems, doctors who thought they got the gene sequence right. That tidbit stuck in my head this time around. That sounded as if they were attempting to alter DNA.

"Earth to Scully!" Mulder's voice broke into my thoughts and my head snapped up from the morsel of pork I had been pushing around my plate.

"Eh?" I responded vaguely, illogical connections slowly fading to a dull buzz. I focused in on his face and saw that his eyebrows were drawn together. He was looking down his nose at me and I could tell he was a bit put off.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" The tone of his voice told me he wasn't so much put off as a bit hurt that I had been sitting across the small table from him and quite obviously ignoring him. I immediately felt guilty.

"I'm so sorry, Mulder, I haven't been listening at all. I've been lost in my head. What were you saying?" I couldn't help but look down at my half empty plate in shame. Not only was I completely oblivious to him speaking to me, but I felt guilty about not feeling like I could share my concerns with him. If anyone on this planet could understand what was going on in my head, it would have been Mulder.

"It's alright, Scully, I was just asking about the house in Rhode Island that we're going to. I was thinking we would probably need some supplies, since the house has been empty for a while…."

I saw his mouth moving but the words faded away and all I heard were my incredibly loud thoughts and memories of people's voices. Skinner, How long are we going to do this, Dana? Byers, Does Mulder know? Dr. Cenetta, I think he'd benefit from knowing that. My mother, I assume you haven't told Fox. Krycek, they gave up but find themselves miraculously pregnant. Miracles. And Mulder, Never give up on a miracle.

"…Its too long of a drive, we should fly. Don't you think?" Mulder finished and look at me with an eyebrow up while passing a fried donut hole to me.

"Um, well yeah, I had planned on it. But I…" the strong scent of greasy dough covered in sugar assaulted my nose and writhed in my sinuses like a thick yellow snake. The room seemed to shift on its axis. I clapped a hand to my mouth, bolted from the table and hit the bathroom door at a run having barely the presence of mind or time to slam it shut behind me before my stomach turned inside out. And it kept on and on attempting to empty itself of the objectionable pseudo-ethic food. Thank God it wasn't too spicey, I sent a brief prayer up to whoever might be listening.

After what seemed an eternity, I leaned against the tile wall, eyes closed, the cool ceramic a comfort to my hot, sweat sheened cheek. I thought I could have sat there, huddled in the corner of my bathroom forever. Standing up was out of the question, every muscle felt like Jello. I groaned, "Oh, Christ, no Jello." A cool, wet cloth was put to my face and I heard a low chuckle.

"No, no Jello, or anything else for you for a while." I cracked an eye open to see Mulder sitting on the lid of the toilet I had just desecrated. "And definitely not Pad Thai. You gonna make it?"

I tried to say, "yes," but only croaked a bit. I settled for clearing my throat and giving a shallow nod. I took the cool cloth and draped it over my face. I quickly realized I couldn't breathe with a wet washcloth over my face and removed it, instead using it to wipe at my mouth and chin. I looked up at Mulder who was wearing a sympathetic if a tad worried expression.

"Go get into bed," he ordered. "I'll get you some ice to suck on."

I shook my head and muttered a decisive, "huh uh. Not moving. Ever," and let my head rest again the wall again. My declaration was met with a snort and a sigh that came from directly above me. Mulder knelt down beside me and picked up my unresisting hand, which he promptly swung over his shoulder. In a surprisingly efficient motion he picked me up off the floor and made for the bedroom.

After depositing me, gently, on top of my neatly made bed, Mulder clicked on the bedside lamp. "Lay there for a bit, I'll get that ice and then help you get into pajamas." He spotted the package of club crackers I had taken to keeping on the nightstand and picked them up, offering them to me. I shook my head again and smiled weakly up at him.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, feeling a tad embarrassed. Mulder simply leaned down, planted a kiss on my forehead and as he turned toward the door said,

"Close your eyes for a while, I'll be back soon."

I lay back on my pillows and did close my eyes. Good as his word, Mulder was back soon enough. I had dozed off, but woke with a start when he brushed my hair behind my ear. I had gotten cold while I dozed and shivered. Mulder, with deft hands, scooped me into his arms and pulled down the covers. I huddled under the thick comforter and shivered again. Mulder kicked his shoes off and climbed into bed with me, wrapping me in his long, lanky arms and sharing the heat of his body with me.

"Better?" Mulder asked into my ear. I moved closer to him, giving my back maximum contact with his lean chest. He held me closer and lightly kissed the tender skin behind my ear. We both gave contented sighs and I smiled into the pillow.

"Mulder?" I said tentatively.

"Mmm, yeah, Scully?"

"I'm pregnant," I felt shock stiffen his muscles and I extricated myself enough to turn toward him. The look on his face was momentarily blank, but then softened and his mouth broke out into a huge grin. I thought my heart had stopped beating, but as his smile warmed his eyes, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Mulder put a hand to my cheek and kissed me, gently at first and then with a passion I had never seen or felt in him before. I reciprocated and let his passion echo through me.

Mulder pulled away from me, his hand hovering over my midsection. "Can I...?" He hesitated, but I didn't. I pulled his hand to the swell of our child. I stared at his face, trying to reading it and failing. I knew him so well, but I could not see his thoughts reflected in his eyes. My heart beat was loud in my ears and my breathing was quick and shallow. If he didn't say something soon, I might die of anticipation.

My hand involuntarily tightened over his, which seemed to have reminded him that I was still there. He put his forehead to mine, hand still resting on my abdomen, his fingers splayed as if trying to hold the child in his hand.

"I love you," he whispered and I felt the warmth of his tears mingle with my own. How long? How long had I waited to hear those three words from him? How long had I waited to say them myself? Years of wanting, weeks of loneliness and fear, weeks of confusion and secrecy and pent up emotion melted away with our salty kisses.

On the verge of sleep sometime later, I lay with Mulder once again at my back, his large, warm hand a protective shield over my vulnerable belly. "I love you too," I said into the darkness. He smoothed the fabric of my silk pajamas under his hand and nuzzled into my hair. I let myself drift off to sleep, wrapped in Mulder's safe arms, for a few hours of blissful sleep before my meeting with the devil.


	16. Junk DNA

I quietly slid out from underneath my bed covers, leaving Mulder snoring softly. I had an impulse to touch him, but pushed it away. I couldn't wake him, not now. I change my clothes as quietly as possible, left a note explaining that I was following a lead and slipped out the door. As soon as I got in my car, I called Skinner and briefly explained my intentions. I was met with skepticism and hesitance.

"Scully, it's the middle of the night and the last time we listened to Krycek…" Skinner trailed off, but I was able to complete his thought. The last time we trusted Alex Krycek, Mulder had been abducted and Skinner still blamed himself.

"Sir, I'm well aware of the outcome of that conference, however, he was telling the truth, the ship was there," I reminded him.

"I know I saw the damn thing." There was an uncomfortable pause before Skinner sighed heavily into the phone. "Fine, I'll pick you up."

…..

The tiny parking lot put in for the convenience of walking trail users was unlit. We were early and there was no sign of Krycek, or anyone else. Skinner and I made our way to a set of picnic tables surrounded by trees. I sat at one table, Skinner melted into the darkness behind a tree. The minutes passed with only the sound of cicadas buzzing, occasionally interrupted by the passing of cars on the beltway. Normally, I would have spent the time worrying, but I was numb. The silence of my thoughts was a comfort. If I had no preconceived notions of what Krycek had to say, I couldn't be horrified at his revelation. Or so I thought.

"Scully," I jumped at the sound of Skinner's loud whisper, "you can still change your mind. Maybe we can figure this out without Krycek. You said he gave you information on the phone that might be useful."

I was tempted, but it was too late, now. Before I could reply a large black sedan crunched over the gravel of the small lot and slid to a stop. I heard a muttered, "shit" from behind the tree and steeled myself, wrapped in numbness. I took my gun out of the holster at my back and slid it under the table in front of me. Working in the field as an agent of the FBI was good for stilling the hands under pressure, but I had no control over the excessive beating of my heart. Krycek hadn't killed his headlight and his long shadow fell before him as he walked toward me.

"Are you alone, Agent Scully?" Krycek asked with a tilt of his head, daring me to lie. I took that dare.

"Yes. What do you have for me?" He held a large manila envelope, thick and rasping against his coat. It unnerved me that he carried it under his prosthetic arm. Normally, I would consider a missing limb a sign of physical weakness, but Krycek had none.

"Bullshit," he looked around, "where's Mulder? Hiding in the trees?"

Skinner slid out from behind said tree, weapon pointed in the direction of Krycek's chest.

"No, but I won't hesitate to shoot you dead, either. Get to the point of why we're here." Skinner's voice was full of hatred and I realized that, in fact, he would not hesitate to kill the man.

Krycek continued to walk toward the table where I sat and lid the envelope across to me. I stopped it from sliding off the table with my left hand, my right still under the table, gun pointed at Krycek.

"Skinner's just as good as Mulder, you shouldn't go anywhere alone. They will be looking for you. I hope they don't have the resources to find any of you. The balance of power has shifted, but it's no guarantee." Krycek straddled the picnic bench and sat facing Skinner and his gun.

"Speak in plain terms, Krycek. Who's looking for Agent Scully and why?"

Krycek's explanation was incredible to say the least. A group had made contact with him shortly after working with us to find the ship that had crashed near Bellefluer, OR. He had information from his time working for Cancer Man and the Syndacate. They thought his knowledge, his work ethic, and, I thought, his varying degrees of morality, would be helpful in their mission.

"And what is their mission?" I asked dubiously, an eyebrow raised. I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.

"Ally themselves with the alien rebels and stop colonization. Simple as that, only it's not so simple. This is a war of control over technology. In the fighting, some has been lost, some stolen, some even destroyed. The rebels are in control, now, but it's a tenuous control. The race who dealt with the Syndicate and is planning colonization, have people working on their behalf as well."

I stayed silent and listened to what Krycek had to say. The rebels had taken a different stance on preventing colonization. They would use the colonizing race's own technology against them, rather than destroying, by fire, evidence of their experiments. It seemed they had succeeded in disabling microchips planted in experimental humans. But there was a failsafe. If ever the capabilities to control these chips fell into the hands of humans or another race, colonization would begin immediately, starting with the creation of humans with a dormant sequence of alien DNA unlocked.

Skinner broke into Krycek's diatribe, "How? Create them how? With that black cancer Mulder's always going on about? A virus? What is it, dammit?" Skinner was visibly agitated and moving closer to Krycek with every question.

"I came unarmed, Skinner. If you want answers, quit waving the gun in my face." Skinner's arm slowly relaxed and fell to his side, but I could see his hand, fingers white with gripping the gun, one still on the trigger. "Thank you. Now, the virus, the black oil, it only alters what already is, its limited in its capacity. What we're talking about here is the creation of something entirely new, unknown to us and really, unknown to them."

It was my turn to make a contribution to the questioning, "How, Krycek? Science doesn't allow for the creation of new species outside of natural evolution, which takes thousands of years. What you're suggesting is that it's possible to create something from nothing."

Krycek shook his head, obviously frustrated at our lack of understanding. "No, it's not something from nothing. It's something that's already there, that our science knows about, but can't explain: it's an activation of the so called junk DNA. Beyond that, it's the birds and the bees, Agent Scully." He gave me a leering, knowing look that I would like to have slapped off his face. "I need to go. Watch your backs."

I considered trying to stop him, to try to ask more questions, to try to get clarification on what he wanted me to do. He answered the last for me without my asking.

"Find those women, Scully, they need to be protected. They'll trust you more than they'll ever trust me." And he turned again toward the glaring headlights, his long shadow following behind.

"Yeah, with good reason," muttered Skinner. I relaxed my grip on my own weapon, but held it still under the table waiting for the sweep of Krycek's headlights to indicate his departure before I re-holstered the gun. I propped my elbows on the table and covered my face with both hands, visions of the dream I had in Dr. Cenetta's waiting room flitting through my overwhelmed, exhausted mind. I took deep, even breaths and shook off the ghost of the dream.

"Let's go," I said as I stepped away from the table, folder in hand. "I just want to go home."

….

When I arrived back home, I checked on a still sound asleep Mulder, then I booted up my computer and sat at my desk with the manila envelope. Its contents proved to be a data CD, lists of doctors who participated in Syndicate's plan, I scanned the list for Dr. Parenti. Sure enough, he and his colleagues at Zeus were listed near the middle of the second page. Also in the envelope were lists of women. Their information included DOB's, husbands, if applicable, children born before the first abduction. None of them had children born after their initial abduction. Many of them were listed as deceased. My own entry on this list was brief. My name was there, my DOB, date of my abduction and return, but of course, no husband, no children.

The yawning emptiness that customarily filled my heart when facing this reality was muted by the undeniable fullness of my womb. I sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. Having spent several years convinced I would never have my own child and several months filled with angst and disappointed over failed attempts to regain what was taken, I could not be anything but thankful that I had this opportunity, no matter what the circumstances or cost.

With that clarity, I began yet another entry into my field journal regarding the possibility of extraterrestrial life colonizing planet earth.


	17. Don't Say That

A/N: _A little MSR angsty chapter for ya. You know I love the MSR junkies. If you've posted a review, I think you're awesome. If you've been reading and you haven't posted a review, please do! I do this for fun, but its nice to know other people have fun with me having fun. erm, yeah. I totally understand the frustration of staying with a work in progress and I appreciate everyone's patience... ;)_

* * *

I woke with sunlight spilling over my bedroom and stretched like a lazy cat, enjoying the warmth that its rays provided. I hadn't been in bed long enough for the demands that pregnancy normally placed on my bladder in the mornings to be uncomfortable and was relishing the rare opportunity to languish in bed. I took the time to reacquaint myself with my body. It was something that I had read about in a novel, when I had had time for such indulgences. The changes of my body reminded me of those passages and I finally understood what the author meant.  
I flipped the covers off and lay flat on my back, eyes closed, listening for the beat of my heart. I followed the flow of blood as it moved through my heart, to my lungs, and back through the meaty chambers. I lifted my hands to my neck and felt the pulse of my carotids, slow, steady, strong. My hands moved lightly down, barely touching my skin, over clavicle, full breasts, smooth rib cage, and finally the soft roundness of my growing uterus. Even laying down, the swell rose well above my hip bones and upward to my naval. I tried to remember how it had felt the day before but, events and a near sleepless night clouded my memories. Surely it didn't changed from day to day.  
My mind was drifting and dozing again and I lazily moved my hands back up to my breasts, remembering the few hours of contentment I had with a lover in my bed. My eyes snapped open, my fuzzy mental processes jerked into awareness that I had had company when I crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning. I was alone now and everything around me was quiet. I wondered if he had left without telling me.  
Swinging my legs over the bed, I stood too quickly and the floor seemed to sway beneath me. Whether from tiredness or the dizzying realization of my bed being once again empty, I had to sit and try again. Balance restored, I crept barefoot out to the main room. Mulder was sitting at my desk, contents of the manila envelope still spread out, computer screen on with my latest field entry displayed. I didn't mind him reading it, he would have eventually anyway, but I wasn't ready to draw any conclusions nor was I ready to share it with him. He wasn't ready either.  
He sat back in the chair, head in hands. I went to him and put a hand to his shoulder and found that he was shaking. A peer around to his face told me he was shaking with tears and I lowered myself, balanced on the balls of my feet to his eye level, hand on his heaving chest.  
"Mulder what," I began, but he stopped my words, pulling up and crushing me to him. He buried his face in my hair and holding on to me for dear life, wept like I had never seen him do before.  
I stroked his hair, his back, his shoulders and murmured calming words in his ear.  
"Shhh. Mulder, its okay. Everything is alright. Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong, please." At first he only shook harder and I felt his hot tears on my neck and his breath, coming hard, made my hair flutter. I asked again, "What is it, Mulder?" And the question brought forth an almighty anger. Mulder released me from the grip of his arms and I stood to avoid being shoved off his lap. He brought a fist down on the desk with enough force to shake the hardwood.  
"Its my fault!" he yelled. "What is it for? What in the hell have I done with my life if I couldn't protect these people?! What is the point of finding the truth if I couldn't help anyone, save anyone, keep anyone safe?!" He whirled from the desk and ran shaking hands through his too long chestnut hair. Hands clasped atop his head, he walked in circles, breathing like a steam engine. "Why have I wasted my life if I couldn't protect my family, those women or even you, Scully? What does ANY of it MATTER?! Look!" He gestured to my computer screen with an outstretched hand and I could see the tension in every muscle of his arm. "Its my fault, Scully, I did this to you and I can't do a goddamn thing to fix it. This fucking truth is worthless. I couldn't help you, I couldn't help my sister. All its done is cause pain. The truth is not worth shit!"  
Not being able to listen to his anguished, self loathing questions for another instant, I stopped him with a tight grasp on his elbow. "Stop, Mulder. You can't say that," I said, trying to sound calm and failing. My voice was higher and louder than a calm tone allowed for. "The truth is everything. We're close to something here, I know we are. Without the truth, we've been wasting our time, not because of it." He gave me a look that made my heart thump loudly in chest. So much for that slow, steady pulse earlier, I thought. his eyes were still burning with infuriation. I stepped closer to him, close enough that our clothing brushed one another, looked him full in the face and said, "without the truth, we have nothing."  
Mulder put his hands to my shoulders and slid them down my arms, catching hold of both my hands. He knelt before me, wrapped his arms around my waste. With his cheek pressed to the swell of our child he whispered, "I don't want the truth, I only want you."  
As touched as I was by the sentiment, and I was, it also caused me great concern. I took his face in my hands, looked him straight in the eyes and told him the absolute truth.  
"Mulder, you have never, ever, in your life wanted anything more than the truth about what happened to your sister and to deliver the truth about our government's lies and conspiracies to the American people. Its a noble, albeit dangerous, quest and its your whole life."  
He still looked as tortured as he had during his explosion renouncing his quest. I was fighting back tears, but his were still flowing. "No, Scully," he replied and rested a big hand on my abdomen. "This should be my life."  
I sighed, almost at a loss, but had one more convincing fact for him. I rested my smaller hand over his and reminded him, "if it weren't for the truth, Mulder, we wouldn't have this."  
I like to think that this agreed with me and took its first opportunity to lend some support. The fluttering, tapping sensation caught me off guard, but I knew, instinctively what it was. I took in a sharp breath in surprise and held Mulder's hand over my belly more firmly.  
"Did you feel that?" I asked excitedly. Mulder looked up at me, his expression softening considerably.  
"Feel what? No, what is it?" I shushed Mulder and waited, hardly daring to breath to see if it would happen again. I didn't want to miss it. I was already feeling as if I had imagined it. I waited for what seemed like an eternity but the tapping I was almost sure I had felt didn't return.  
Mulder still on his knees and obviously bewildered got my attention. "Hello? Scully, what?" I shook my head, but he deserved a better answer.  
"The... it..." I floundered, not a little bewildered myself. I blinked at him several time and got it together. "I swear its too early, but I think I felt movement."  
Mulder shifted his gaze from my face to where our hands rested. A smile took over his features and I breathed a sigh relief as his posture relaxed and the angst of the last few minutes ebbed from the room. Mulder stood, but still me by the waist. "When does it usually happen?"  
"It varies," I replied. "But, for first pregnancies, usually not until 18 weeks." I smoothed down the front of my cotton shirt and moved a few paces away from where Mulder seemed to be doing an impression of a statue. I wished for the thousandth time that I had kept better track of my cycle.  
"And you are how many weeks? I thought people kept track of that stuff in months. Why do you look worried? Isn't it good if the kid is a early bloomer? Tell me if its not, because I'm on the verge of feeling like proud papa with a strong kicker over here."  
I laughed at incongruity of Mulder and proud papa and gave him a similar explanation to the one I had given Skinner just the day before. I ended with,"How are you so comfortable with this already? You nearly jumped out of your skin when I asked you to help me have a baby a year ago."  
Mulder thought for a minute and dragged me to a seat on the couch beside him. "I don't know really," he began. "I think, in a corner of my mind, I maybe already knew, but didn't know that I knew. I was surprised, don't get me wrong. But, I wasn't overly shocked. Maybe," Mulder paused to turn toward me. "Maybe, I'm more ready like this, I mean not remembering things that have happened, than I would be if I did remember everything. I'm still trying to understand all of that," he indicated the contents of my desk with a nod. "It doesn't feel like my life's work, the most important thing to me. But, you and us and our kid I have no doubt how important that is."  
His statement floored me. The feelings that we had for each other were never a source of conversation, feelings weren't something we talked about. I certainly had never imagined a time when Mulder would consider his work secondary to anything. He had told me that night in Oregon to go home, to forget about it. But he had never considered doing so himself. He thought the personal cost was too high for me, but for the man with no personal life, there was no cost.  
"I'm giving it up, Scully. You should too. No more chasing shadows, no more conspiracies and especially no more lead hunting in the middle of the night. It has to end sometime."  
Had I not known of Mulder's psychological condition, I may have laughed or hit him. I told myself that it would pass. He would regain what he had lost in the abduction ordeal. The only ones who had ever asked him to give up his life's work were dead or now on his side. There was no way to explain to him that it was far from over and there was no way to walk away. We were both inextricably tangled in the web weaved by his father, the Syndicate, and his own indefatigable quest to discover lies and uncover the truth.  
"I can't, Mulder, its... Its become my life and I don't see a way out. I've looked. I've tried, I've been on the brink of giving up. But, its just not possible. And you'll see that. Soon, you'll remember why its the most important thing in your life." I heard Dr. Cenetta's words echoing in my memory. He's afraid of who he was, afraid that he wasn't a good man. He may not want to remember.  
My cell phone rang from its charging spot on my desk. I let out a sigh and answered as I unplugged it.  
"Scully."  
"Yeah, Agency Scully, this is John Doggett. I'm sorry to interrupt your Saturday, but..."  
I sighed again,"what is it, Agent Doggett?"  
"I got a call from a hospital in a town in Western Pennsylvania. They have a John Doe matching the description of one of our abductees."  
I closed my eyes, knowing that a trip was in my future. But, rather than taking Mulder for a weekend of childhood haunts and seafood, it would be spent wrapped up in what Mulder was trying to convince me to quit.  
"Who's description does he match?" I asked tentatively.  
"Its a Ray Hoese, a deputy from that town in Oregon. I'm heading up pretty soon. Gonna book a flight Dulles to Pittsburgh. Can I get you a ticket too?"  
I paused, thinking that I needed to go, but couldn't leave Mulder to his own devices for long. God knew what he would do. I should have known better than to treat him like I normally would. I had ignored my own warnings to myself, to his detriment, for my own selfish wants. I turned away from where Mulder sat on the couch.  
"No, Agent Doggett, I'll make travel arrangements for myself and Agent Mulder."  
Maybe if he were to see, first hand, what we were looking for, what we were trying to prove, it would trigger something. Perhaps a taste of his work, in the field, would be even more effective than a trip to Rhode Island.  
I faced Mulder after I hung the phone. His face was pleading with an edge of irritability.  
"Don't go," he said. "Just take the weekend and tell the FBI to screw off. We can do this, together." I had to close my eyes again to shut out the look on his handsome face. It was tempting. Pretending to have a normal was always tempting.  
"No," I replied, "we're both going."


	18. Oh Sh--

The flight to Pittsburgh was a quick one, thank God. Mulder had at least given up scowling or attempting to change my mind. I had to get him in the field with me. I had allowed myself complacency where his condition was concerned and things had gone entirely too far. My urgency for Mulder to snap out of it was back in a big way. But, I wasn't handling well. We sat next to each other on the plane, not speaking, not even touching in the tiny confines of our airline seats. Our last exchange hadn't ended well.

Mulder had been trying to talk to me out of meeting Doggett and investigating Ray Hoese's disappearance a reappearance. I had tried convincing him that was in his best interest that we find out as much as we could.  
"Mulder, for God's sake! Hoese disappeared at the same time as you and was a multiple abductee. Surely you see the significance here. If Ray can tell us anything, anything at all, about where he's been, we can get a break in figuring this out."  
He looked at me, nonplussed, but then rolled his eyes. "Scully, if we haven't been able to figure this out and bring anybody to justice in the last, what? Seven years? What makes you think this is going to be any different? You can't really believe that doing the same thing over and again will bring about different results."  
So, I lost my cool. I didn't really think I had resented him for the insane journey we had been on. We had made progress, we had solved unsolvable cases. We had uncovered truths, exposed lies and been in danger a thousand times. I'm still amazed that the government kept paying our health insurance premiums. Perhaps I did harbor some resentment and it showed, loud and clear.  
"I spent those seven years following you around listening to your crazy theories and banging my head against a wall trying to get you to see reason. Now, its your turn to follow me!"  
Those were the last words we spoke in the car on the way to the airport, through the airport, boarding the plane and sitting next to each other in the cramped space. I was tempted to take the aisle seat just to make him suffer, crammed into the space between me and the window.  
The next time we spoke, Mulder was nudging me awake, telling me we would land soon. My conscious mind was upset with him, but I found that in sleep, I had still turned to him, head on his shoulder. At some point, as I dozed, he had taken my hand in his.  
I gave his hand a light squeeze and said, "Mulder, I'm..."  
"I know, Scully," he interrupted and returned the squeeze. "Me too."

As soon as I was able, I called Agent Doggett to get an update on Ray Hoese's condition. It wasn't very positive: wounds on the face, wrists, abdomen, and in the oral cavity. I could tell Mulder's ears had perked up at that. They were the same wounds he had suffered. But there was a drastic difference. Ray Hoese was in and out of consciousness and having violent seizures.  
It wasn't anything I had encountered in hearing hundreds of abduction stories. Once again, the only connection was the anomalous brain activity Hoese and Mulder had had in common. Mulder's miraculously disappeared. Hoese's, it appeared, was much worse.  
"In what condition was he found? How did he end up at the hospital?" I inquired.  
Agent Doggett sighed in response and confirmed my suspicions. "He just showed up at this Butler Memorial Hospital. No one can tell me exactly when or who brought him in. Hoese himself isn't with it enough to say much of anything except ask after his wife and baby. As to his condition, much the same as it is now. They transferred Mr. Hoese to UPMC in the city. He should already be there. You're closer than I am right now, but I'm not far behind."

Mulder and I arrived at the large hospital complex and began our search for someone who could give information on the whereabouts of Ray Hoese. We finally made it to the right floor and the right nurse's station. I assigned Mulder the task of finding the doctor who had been treating Ray Hoese while I made my way down the short corridor to the room a nurse indicated. I was met at the door way by a familiar yet startling face. Krycek came out of the room, took one look at me, scowled and grabbed me by the upper arm.  
"You shouldn't be here," he hissed at me. "This man isn't your concern. I'm taking care of this."  
I tried to extricate myself from his surprisingly rigid grip and failed. I hissed back, "This most certainly is my concern. Deputy Hoese disappeared at the same time and place as Mulder." Krycek's response startled me. He pushed against the opposite wall of the hallway and loomed over me. I cursed the lack of my usual height boosting heels. But the height differential afforded me a good look at what he carried under his affected arm: a clear box full of syringes containing an amber colored liquid.  
"Listen, Scully, you do your part, I'll do mine. Is that clear? We can't keep showing up at the same places at the same time." Krycek was entirely too close and whispered the last bit into my ear. "People will get suspicious."  
I jerked under his grasp, once again to no avail. "What's in those syringes," I nodded at the box. "And who is going to get suspicious?" I gave him an icy glare indicating I expected answers. I also managed to move a hand towards my weapon, but Krycek was pushing me against the wall too hard for me grasp the butt of the gun.  
"I don't have time right now. Stay out of my way and call off your Doggett, got it?" Krycek leaned even closer so that we were nose to nose. He gave a soft chuckle and said, "damn, Mulder is a lucky son of a bitch." Before I could register what he had said his mouth was on mine, practically bruising in my lips in his attempts to gain access.  
From the other end of the hallway I heard a bellowing, "hey! You! What the hell..." I gave an almighty shove off the wall and sent Krycek backwards, slightly off balance. I reached for my weapon and was seriously considering shooting him when Mulder's voice rang out again, closer, "Krycek, you bastard!"  
Krychek's head snapped around and he let out a heartfelt, "oh shit!" Before taking off, sprinting down the hallway. Mulder took off after him and they disappeared around a corner, feet thundering and sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor. I let out my own oath in the form of a quick short, "shit!"  
Doggett appeared from the direction Mulder had come. "Agent Scully, what's all the shouting about?" He caught sight of my weapon in my hand and made to drawn his own. I put a hand up to stop him and re-holstered the gun at my back. Doggett hurried toward me. I was anxious to be gone and search for Krycek and Mulder, but needed to convey at least some information first.  
"Get a doctor in there! Hoese may have been injected with something." I practically shouted at Doggett and the nurse who was on his heels. The nurse ran into the room that Krycek had exited and began checking vitals. Doggett immediately snapped into action with an, "oh shit," of his own. He turned on his heel and was halfway down the hall in what seemed like an instant shouting for, "a doctor, dammit!"  
I took out at a dead run in the opposite direction, after Mulder and Krycek. I turned the corner I had seen them take to see a T at the end of that hallway. I thought I knew where Krycek was headed and briefly consulted the arrow signs before sprinting off again. At the next corner, I nearly crashed into a tall blond woman. I was about to give her a cursory apology and take off again when she grabbed my sleeve and addressed me.  
"Agent Scully, I've been looking for you." The blond said in hushed, husky tone.  
I was startled and began a question, "who the hell-" but thought better of it. "Now isn't a good time." I made to leave but she stopped me short again.  
"I'm tasked with keeping tabs on Alex Krycek. I have reason to believe..." She had my attention, but I needed to be gone.  
"If you're keeping tabs on Krycek you should know my parter is about to kill him," I barked at her.  
"Agent Doggett? Why?" Her voice rose in pitch with surprise.  
"No, Mulder," I corrected her.  
She looked bewildered and said, "Oh shit."  
I rolled my eyes. "That seems to be the consensus, come on!" And we both took off in the direction of the parking garage.


	19. Close Encounter

I burst through the door to the garage and cast around for signs of a struggle. The fight would be a fair one, if Krycek wasn't armed. My instincts regarding Krycek having a car waiting for him were confirmed when I rounded a corner and saw the large black sedan, back passenger door open and two men struggling inside. Drawing my weapon, I approached the car from the back, opposite the side of the open door. I opened my mouth to shout at the struggling figures, barely visible behind privacy glass.

Before I could get any sound out of my mouth, the car lurched into reverse with a squeal of tires. I had to jump out of the way behind another car in order to avoid being hit, unfortunately the black sedan crashed into the car I had taken cover behind and I was knocked down, covered in shattered glass. A second squeal of tires and the roar of an engine told me the black sedan hadn't been damaged too badly. I scrambled to my feet to see the one intact tail light disappear around the corner and down to the lower level.

I ran for the stairs and caught sight of the blond woman who had followed me. "I hope you're not also charged with keeping control of Alex Krycek," I yelled as I passed her. She was rooted to the floor, mouth open but once on the stairs, I heard her footsteps clattering behind me.

Coming out into the garage two floors down, I had managed to get in front of the vehicle and planted myself, both hands on my gun pointed in the direction the sedan would come from. It appeared within seconds and I began firing rounds, in vain, at its hood and windshield. I stood my ground and shouted my customary, "Stop! Federal Agent!." It was to no avail. I was nearly jerked off my feet and out of the path of the speeding sedan by the tall blond. As soon as I recovered my balance I took off running after the vehicle again. The back door was still hanging open and I had an excellent view of Mulder being pushed out of the car by black boots and black denim clad legs.

He was pushed out with enough forced and the car was traveling fast enough that Mulder did several barrel rolls over dusty concrete before coming to a rest on his back. Approaching him at a dead run, I quickly re-holstered my gun and crouched down next to him. His eyes were open, wide and staring. He had several red marks on his face would that become bruises soon enough and an abrasion on his right temple that was oozing blood.

I took hold of his jaw with my right hand and pulled his face toward mine. "Mulder, talk to me." I put a hand to his chest and realized that though it was rigid with stress, it wasn't moving up and down. "Breathe, dammit!"

Mulder let out a strangled, "Can't..." but then his chest expanded and in the next instant he was panting with exertion. I let him catch his breath and rested my right hand on his chest. I checked the pulse in his neck, fast and strong. And hazarded a question.

"Where does it hurt?"

He scoffed a bit but replied, "Left... arm..." He took another deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. "I think its broken." His brow was furrowed and his face was beginning to pale, but I had experience with broken bones.

"If it were broken you'd be throwing up or passed out. Let me see it." I took his left arm in both my hands and heard his head hit the concrete with a thump. I looked up from his arm to see his eyes had rolled back in his head, not quite closing on the whites of his sclera. "Okay, maybe it is broken then," I said with some acerbity. I looked around, casting about for a way to get Mulder to the emergency department.

The blond woman was there, a few paces behind me. I turned, still in my crouching position and addressed her considerably more acerbically than I had Mulder's arm. "He needs help," I said and jerked my head toward to the door marked "Entrance."

She shook her head a bit and replied, "I'll find someone." And she turned for the door into the hospital.

I let out a deep breath through pursed lips and attempted to rouse Mulder. I put a hand, gently this time, on his cheek and said his name a few times. His eyes fluttered a bit and his head turned toward me.

"Where is my gun?" He asked slowly. I thought that was hardly a point of order that deserved discussion at the moment and began reassuring him that medical help was on the way.

"I wanted to shoot the bastard, but I didn't have my gun. Why don't I have it?" Mulder was fading in and out of consciousness causing his statement and question to seem to drag on for minutes rather than the seconds it had really taken. I gave him a questioning look, but his eyes rolled back in his head again.

...

After a cursory examination, administration, via IV, of pain meds, and a temporary immobilizing sling put on his broken left arm, Mulder was woozy and not capable of much conversation. A state that made stepping out into the hallway to speak with Agent Doggett about recent events an agreeable exodus.

Once leaning against the wall in the hallway, I inquired after our other patient. "How's Ray Hoese? Have they drawn any more blood to check for foreign substances? What were his vitals like when you left him?"

Agent Doggett seemed to have lost his tongue and stared at me, eyes traveling up and down my frame. He finally found words after I gave him an admonishing, "Well?"

"You look like hell. You have broken glass in your hair, dirt and God knows what else all over your clothes and you're bleeding."

I jerked in surprise. "Where?" I asked, looking myself over as best I could. Doggett wasn't wrong about my clothes. My light green suit was covered with dirt and oil from my contact with the parking garage floor. A glance at my sleeve showed a smear of blood, but... Doggett stepped toward me, put a hand to the right side of my jaw and I slapped his fingers away, the contact causing a stinging sensation just below my left ear. He held up his fingers in front of my face to show me the red smear.

I ducked into the bathroom a few paces down the hall, wet a paper towel and put it to the area where I now felt the considerable sting of cut flesh. I didn't look in the mirror. I didn't want to know.

I went back to my position against the hallway wall and told Agent Doggett, "this is as good as my looks are going to get for now. Answer my questions."

"Fine," Doggett replied with resignation. "Hoese is fine. His condition has stabilized. He hasn't had a seizure since you took off without a word of explanation about where you were going or what you were doing or that you might, just maybe, could have benefited from a little assistance from you partner. I'm gonna remind you again that I'm not here for decoration, Agent Scully."

I was tempted to snap at him, but he had a point. Had he been with me, rather than the mysterious blond who had not disappeared, things might have gone a little better.

"I'm sorry, Agent Doggett. I'm not used to having you around yet."

Doggett's posture relaxed and he leaned against the wall next to me. "I _am_ here to help. I told the tech that you'd probably want to have a look at the most recent sample of Hoese's blood. He said you could meet him in the lab."

I smiled, "take a walk to the parking garage with me and I'll tell you where I went and what I was doing."

"Why the parking garage?" Doggett asked me.

"I need a change of clothes. I can't go around having you thinking I look like hell."

I pushed off the wall and grimaced. I put my hand to the small of my back and groaned. The gentleman that he was, Agent Doggett was at my side and inquiring as to where I was hurt.

"It's nothing. Just a bruise." The hard leather of my holster had probably left a mark as well as a sore spot when I had hit the concrete floor of the garage. "I had a close encounter..." I began.

Doggett, eyebrows at his hairline, turned me toward him by the arm he had taken to support me. "Close encounter with what?" The look of near panic on his face was enough to undo me after the events of the last hours and I laughed.

"The pavement, Agent Doggett. I had a close encounter with the pavement." I finally managed and shook my head with amusement. "There aren't any aliens lurking around. Yet."


	20. DNA or RNA?

_Hey readers, this is a longer one. I felt like Scully and Doggett needed some bonding time and its got some juicy science stuff to give us a clue about different methods of colonization. As always, thank you for reading! Drop me a review, please. Don't make me bed, its not pretty._

* * *

I filled Doggett in on the chase and how Agent Mulder had come to be injured. I was changing in the locker room and still talking to Doggett when I had a break though.

"Alex Krycek is a long time pain in our collective asses at the FBI. He was an agent, but after the Cigarette Smoking Man, I still forget that he has a name. CGB Spender got ahold of Krycek and from there on out he was a gun for hire, no loyalties except to himself. His main purpose is to protect his own skin and try to scrape up a living by selling information."

Doggett had his back turned to me but was listening intently. I was in trouble and trailed off my explanation in favor of searching my bag and surroundings for the rubber band I had been using to keep my pants 'buttoned.' Though I wasn't in danger of my pants falling off of me, the bottom button on my black shirt didn't reach either. I had no cover for my unbuttoned pants.

"So, when did this Krycek guy last show up before today? It seems to me he pops up at the most inconvenient times." I cast a glance at Doggett's back and found he was trying not to turn around to address me. I opened the locker door nearest me to put something solid between us.

_Ha! Good luck, finally,_ I thought as I spied several hair ties hanging on the hook inside the locker. I grabbed one, looped it around the button, through the hole and around the button once again before I replied.

"He contacted me the other day and wanted to meet up to give me some information. That's a long story. The time before that was just before Mulder was abducted. It was his information that led Mulder and Skinner to the location of the ship. He showed up with this..." I stopped again. _That's who that was!_ "Covarrubius, I'll be damned. I didn't recognize her, the blond was Marita Covarrubius. She was with Krycek when we had a meeting with the Lone Gunmen to pinpoint the location of the crash."

It wasn't a great surprise I hadn't recognized her. Immediately following that meeting, Mulder had left, I found I was pregnant and then was told that Mulder had disappeared along with the alien craft he had been searching for. Not exactly conditions conducive to storing faces and names in long term memory.

"Where does this Marita woman fit into all this, then? And what did Krycek want with you the other day?" Doggett, digging for answers as always, had stumped me.

I fished out a white cami from my bag and spoke as I put it over my head and smoothed it down.

"You know, I really don't know where Miss Covarrubius fits into this. She said she was keeping tabs on Krycek, which suggests they work for the same people, but Krycek isn't trusted."

I swung my black button up on over the tank and began doing up buttons. Over my breasts wasn't going to happen either, so I settled for three buttons, from ribcage to navel, instead of six. "If they both fell in the with same group, its a group that he, Krycek that is, claims has allied themselves with the alien rebels who are fighting against the colonization of Earth."

Doggett broke in again, "wait, wait, alien rebels? Colonization? Are you suggesting that there are not one, but two different kinds of aliens fighting over this planet? Agent Scully, I told you I would keep an open mind, but that's just a little too fantastic for me to swallow whole."

I sat on the bench between the rows of lockers to put my shoes back on and the button at my navel gave way, pinging off the metal locker in front of me and clicking as it hit the floor. I let out an exasperated, "Dammit!" which Agent Doggett assumed was directed at him.

"Hey, I'm not saying you're making this up," he began but interrupted himself, "are you descent yet? I like to look at people when I talk to them." He turned to see that I was, in fact, dressed and continued, "I just need a little more evidence to go on than the word of a man you yourself say isn't to be trusted."

I picked up the offending button off the floor and threw it, in a perfect parabola, into the trashcan on the far wall and turned to face Doggett so he could look at me while I talked to him.

"I know, Agent Doggett, but you have to trust _my_ word. I had eight years to come to the conclusion that such things are possible. And that was after countless experiences and countless denials. We don't have the luxury of time as far your doubts are concerned. I need for you to believe me faster than I believed Mulder."

I walked to the mirror situated over a row of sinks and took pains to only look briefly to be sure I had shaken all the glass out of my hair. I hazarded a glance at my waistline. As good an investigator as Doggett was, he didn't seem terribly observant, but I wasn't going to be fooling him much longer. I ran my fingers through my hair again, sent a prayer up in hopes that my black shirt would do my secret justice and turned back to Doggett.

"You should know," I said in a very serious tone. "Krycek knows who you are and knows that you're here."

Doggett's brows drew together and he rested his hand, unconsciously, on the weapon at his hip. "How do you know that?"

Putting my holster in my second favorite spot, my right hip, I smiled a little wickedly, "he told me to call off my Doggett." I smiled wider and stifled a laugh.

Agent Doggett rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner and replied, quite dryly, "yeah, like I've never heard that one before." He grabbed my ID and badge from the counter where I had put them and tossed them both to me. "C'mon, Agent Scully, you have a date with a blood sample."

...

As blood samples go, Ray Hoese's wasn't anything exceptional at first glance. There hadn't yet been time to analyze the contents beyond rudimentary white and red cell counts. The white was elevated, indicating an infection. Whether viral or bacterial was yet to be established. I suspected, given the circumstances and the history of our cases involving alien abductions, that it was a viral infection.

There was a possibility that the syringes Krycek carried contained some kind of synthesized anti-viral. The white cell count from Hoese's initial blood draw had shown a much higher elevation that the most recent one. While the lab tech worked to separate the components of the sample, I explained these things to Agent Doggett.

"I'm gonna need a medical dictionary to keep up with you," he said as ran a hand down his face. "So, in plain terms, this Krycek character may actually be helping these people, rather than harming them?"

"Its possible, yes. But, his motives are always open for question," I warned.

"So, in order to find out whether he's helping or hindering, we need to wait and see if Mr. Hoese's condition improves dramatically. But, regardless, you want to try to isolate what he was injected with from his blood sample."

This situation was awkward for me. Mulder had always known what I intended before I told him and there was rarely a need for such explanations. I was going to have to get used to explaining myself rather than having my actions read through my tone and body language.

"Exactly," I said, but it came out as a whisper rather than the affirmative indication I had meant it to be. I was being rapidly reminded that I hadn't eaten for some time and took a seat on the stool near the microscope station. Once seated, I cleared my throat and went on, "I want to know the origins of the substance, if it can be traced."

Leaning toward me, Doggett peered at me, a strange look on his face. "Origins? As in earthly or otherwise? How do you determine that?"

"Through isolating it, analyzing it and knowing whether or not medical science has the capabilities to manufacture whatever it is. If its not possible to make it in a lab here on earth, well then..." I trailed off leaving him to complete the sentence on his own. I needed food and badly and the occupant of my expanding abdomen let its agreement be known with quick, short taps. I put a hand to my stomach and was honest about my needs. There's a time and place for stoicism, but this wasn't it. "I'm starving, Agent Doggett. Would you mind...?"

"Oh, yeah sure, no problem. Hey, Mike," he addressed the lab tech overseeing the workings of a small centrifuge. "What's on at the cafeteria?"

...

While waiting on my roast beef and extra mashed potatoes, I assisted as much as Mike the tech would allow me. He, quite obviously, was used to working alone. I busied myself with preparing slides and Petri dishes and tried to be patient. Doggett had offered to check on Mulder on his way to the cafeteria. I was grateful for his concern, but didn't think Mulder would be up for answering questions about how he felt for quite sometime. I, on the other hand, would be feeling nauseous if I didn't get something in my stomach soon.

I wasn't in a position to complain about the inconveniences of pregnancy, but I wasn't above wondering if I had it worse than other women. I had seen other female agents, generally married ones, work throughout their pregnancies with what seemed no trouble. I, on the other hand, was more often than not feeling sick, light headed, or otherwise affected. _How did they do it?_ I wondered. But, then again, I was there, in the field, doing my job. Regardless of ill-fitting clothing, which was my own fault, morning sickness, or all day every day sickness in my case, and amazing fatigue, I thought I was making a decent show of it. Or at least a decent show of not showing how tired, ill, and bloated I felt.

If my mother knew what I had been up to today, she would have had a fit and stepped in it. I began to feel guilty about my no doubt jarring impact with the pavement when Krycek's car had collided with the one I had jumped behind.

"Sorry," I whispered to my unseen companion. I prodded my belly wondering if I could elicit a response. "You okay in there?" I snorted a bit as it seemed my question rather than poking was rewarded with a series of flutters. Without any immediate work or threats, I let my mind wander and sat at the microscope station. Eventually, which really was probably all of five minutes, I put my head down on crossed arms atop the counter and took the opportunity for a quick snooze.

I woke slowly to a prodding at my elbow and Agent Doggett's voice, "... food's here. Hey, Agent Scully. Rise and shine, its food time."

I raised my head off my arms and quickly wiped away saliva that had collected in the corner of my mouth and had run onto my cheek. Rubbing my hands over my face and trying to fit my brain back into my head, I asked,

"How's Mulder?Any word on the MRI?" I thought probably not yet, based on my observations of the traffic in the ER.

"I didn't actually see Mulder, but a nurse told me he was down at imaging. She wasn't sure when he'd be back or when they would have results." Doggett doled out the food he had carried in on a utilitarian plastic tray. I immediately dug in, plastic fork loaded with meat piled with mashed potatoes. There was also something that may have, at one point it its earthly journey, been broccoli. I stayed away from the greenish mush.

"I think he's probably torn a tendon, based on the location and angle of the break. What I could see of his bicep looks like it." I took another mouth full and gave it a cursory chew before continuing. "If the distal bicep tendon is torn, he'll need surgery." I swallowed and was digging in for another mountain of potatoes.

"What's the recovery time on something like that?" Doggett asked around his own mouthful of meat and potatoes. I shrugged, thinking and chewing.

"Full recovery? Six months, but he can regain..."

"Agent Scully," Mike the tech hurried over with a slide and I moved my plate away to give him access to the microscope. "I think I have something here. I haven't had enough time with the sample to really get down and dirty with it," Doggett's eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling and he converted a laugh into a choking that I hoped was put on. Mike didn't seem to notice and went on talking. "But what I do have here looks like a virus but, well I think you should see it."

I shoved some more food in my mouth and bent over the microscope to see what Mike had brought me. "Its a virus alright," I said and increased the power a hair. I blinked, stepped back from the counter, blinked again and bent to look again. "I'll be damned. I take it you haven't seen anything like this, Mike?" I stepped back again and addressed the tech.

"No ma'am, not like that. Sometimes they have funky looking proteins, but I've never seen a variety like that." Mike shook his head and leaned in for another look as if to reassure himself that what he saw was still there.

"Keep working with it, Mike. Do an analysis on the genetic material, I'd like to know if its viral or retroviral." Mike nodded and started for the back of the lab. "Oh, hey, keep at the sample to isolate the other foreign material. It may provide us with some insight into this little bug." I indicated the slide with my fork.

"And you and I need to get out of here with our food," I addressed Doggett who looked down at his plate with some distaste. "Its okay, I don't think its the hopping kind. But, we really shouldn't eat in here anyway."

Occupying hard plastic seats in the hallway outside the lab, I started an explanation of what Mike and I had seen. Doggett was attentive and nodded and murmured, "I see," a lot.

"Rather than having one key protein that allows the virus access to one specific type of cell, this little guy is equipped with different ligands. It has many keys, so in theory, it can infect many kinds of cells. The body is a virtual smorgasbord for this virus."

I thought Doggett must have been a pretty decent student in his school days, he didn't miss a thing and the assumption he made based on the information I gave him was spot on.

"And you want to know if its a virus or a retrovirus because that'll tell you how fast it reproduces?"

I was tempted to give him a high five, but restrained myself. Maybe things would work out better with this strange partnership than I thought.

"Exactly. But not only that, I'll also be able to tell how fast it mutates. Its possible that it mutates and forms different ligands that attack more cells than the original version did. It also means its unpredictable and hard to treat." I had finished my plate of food, with exception of the past-its-prime broccoli. Taking Doggett's and my plates, I found a trash can in a nearby office and disposed of them. When I made my way back to Doggett, he had his head in his hands, clearly thinking.

"Agent Doggett, I know all this is hard to believe, but the only part of this that's out of the realm of normalcy is the ligands on the virus." Doggett looked up at me a smiled.

"I hear ya, Agent Scully. I'm just wondering, it took how many years to develop an effective anti-retroviral medication for people with HIV? From what you've told me, we don't have that kind of time on our hands."

I was fairly astounded that he had made that connection and my respect for him immediately rocketed several notches up. I realized that I truly hadn't given him a chance to prove his worth before now and I felt guilty again.

"I'm going to check on Ray Hoese. Come with me, Mike isn't the chatty type," I offered.

"Oh, sure, you get a nap in the lab, but I gotta keep running around this hospital." He smiled and vacated his seat with alacrity, though.


	21. Welcome Back, Back

A/N: _Anyone interested in a POV other than Scully's? Me too... A little change up. As always, I love reviews. ;)_

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I made my way back across the large hospital campus to the emergency department only to find that Mulder had been transferred to a regular room. The nurse told me that Mulder had been asking for me and for, "some guy named Skinner. Said he should have been with the Skinner guy in some other state and you should be home where he told you stay. He sounded kinda controlling, really. Are you sure you're okay with seeing him?"

I was more than concerned at this revelation, but smiled at the nurse nonetheless. "Yeah I'm sure, he's going to want answers. He can try all he wants to keep me at home, but I'm really the one who wears pants." The nurse looked at me like I had grown a third eyeball and I turned toward the main building again.

From what the nurse had said, it seemed Mulder's encounter with Krycek had done the trick to bring this ridiculous dissociative fugue to an end. I just hoped he remembered something of our last week together. If only so I could berate him some more for wanting to quit.

I knocked softly on the hospital room door, much as I had a week ago, I was met once again with a smile from Mulder. But, this time he was on the phone. At Mulder's nod, I came into the room, closed the door behind me and leaned against it, not wanting to seem to intrude on his call. From Mulder's end of the conversation I deduced he was talking with Skinner. During a long pause in his contributions, Mulder eyed me while listening to whatever Skinner was saying to him. His gaze lingered on my breasts as he unconsciously, I hoped, ran his tongue quickly over his upper lip. I crossed my arms in a meaningful manner and gave him a dirty look.

He continued his appraisal with a shrug of his good shoulder, but stopped short, eyes widening considerably as he took in the view below my crossed arms. He glanced sharply at my face, chin tucked in and eyebrows raise in question. I let the answer to show in my face with a small smile as I relaxed my abdominal muscles, allowing the fullness of my belly free reign, and swept a hand over the resultant curve.

"What was that, sir?" Mulder jerked his attention back to the phone call, but his gaze strayed back to me, well my waistline at any rate. "Sure, she's standing right here, I'll let her know."

With a few more quick exchanges, Mulder set the phone down, but didn't speak again, just stared. I was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable with his scrutiny and cleared my throat. Mulder shook himself a bit, grimaced at the pain it no doubt cause in his arm and opened his mouth only to shut it again abruptly.

"Hi to you too," I said sarcastically and his eyes finally returned to my face. "I gather that was AD Skinner. What are you supposed to tell me?"

Mulder blinked several times as if trying to recall the message he was given just seconds before. "Call Skinner. Kersch is pissed, wants you and someone named Doggett back in DC."

I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly fell out of my head. "Well, Mulder, I think you're not in any condition to relay such and important message. You must have forgotten to tell me."

"Skinner did just lay a whole lot of information on me at one time. But, I think maybe he might have left something rather important out. Speaking of conditions, that is."

I took the few steps necessary to reach the chair by his bedside and sank into it. "Skinner is sworn to secrecy," I said. I took Mulder's good hand. He didn't resist, but he didn't make a move to return the gesture, so I let it go again and sat back.

"I thought you gave up, Scully." His tone was flat with no emotion, completely unreadable. This time he was shocked. Not surprising considering he now had the full back story and could better appreciate the implications.

"You told me not to," I replied with a shy smile. I couldn't believe I was feeling shy, yet again.

Mulder's tone was still flat, eyes hooded as he looked away and down at something he seemed to find fascinating on the rough hospital blanket that covered him. "So, I did. I guess I have to start believing in miracles now."

"Well, if you don't on my account, you might on your own. Have they had a neurologist in to see you?" I asked, wanting to change the subject before the apprehensive atmosphere became unbearable.

His eyes snapped back to me finally, but he adopted a sheepish look. "No, I know what they're going to tell me. I suppose you know now too?"

I sighed and ran fingers through my hair. I was beginning to feel rather aggravated that he had kept his condition from me.

"Well, no Mulder, you don't know what they're going to tell you. And yes, I know, I reviewed your medical records shortly after..." I faltered a bit at having to reopen the wound of Mulder's deception. Aggravation was turning to anger as I remembered what he had put me through. "Shortly after you were taken. Agent Doggett brought them to my attention shortly before your headstone arrived at headquarters."

He had the decency to look slightly ashamed, but my temper was well and lit by this time. I vacated the chair so that I could turn away from him. I didn't want to look him.

"Why in the hell didn't you tell me, Mulder? I could have helped. I at least could have been there for you. You left me in the dark. When I was sick, I was honest with you. You could have returned that respect."

I glanced over my shoulder at him and only then realized I hadn't told him the most important thing. "You're not dying, Mulder. Whatever they did to you... And I don't what that is. But, your EEGs have come back normal, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

The silence in the room behind me was so deafening, I could have sworn Mulder had disappeared into thin air. Of course, when I turned back to him, he was still there. Silent and still as a statue, staring at the fading scars on his wrist. He finally spoke.

"Aren't you going to tell me that's medically impossible, Dr. Scully?"

"Mulder, there are countless things that you have shown me that I would have considered medically impossible." I put a hand to my belly, thinking of the impossibility of my own situation. "You've shown me that impossible and improbable are far from the same thing."

Mulder caught my gesture and smiled, but his eyes held a depth of regret, maybe even sadness. I went to him again and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

"For what its worth, I'm glad you're not dying."

He looked up at me, with the same look still on his face. "I think I'm glad too. I had resigned myself to it and thought I was ready for it. I wanted my time left to be good, well spent. And..." He closed his eyes tight for a moment, but opened them again. "And I wanted you to move on, Scully, stop this roller coaster ride of the X-Files. You've made a step toward that, and I'm glad. I'm happy for you." But his eyes told me he wasn't happy at all and my heart seemed sink into the pit of my stomach with a thud.

"I'm not moving on, Mulder. There's still work to be done and I need your help to do it. Doggett was assigned to the X-Files after royally pissing off Kersch. Doggett's a good cop, but he's bullheaded and doesn't believe a damn thing."

"Getting a taste of your medicine, Scully?" I might have slapped him, but the smile finally reached his eyes with his sarcasm. It heartened me and the nausea I had begun to feel at Mulder's confession of his readiness to die eased a bit.

"Yeah, I guess I have. But, Doggett doesn't get to replace me as resident pain in your ass just yet. We're close Mulder. I can feel it."

A knock came at the door and Agent Doggett hesitated in the threshold. He carried my bag with him and set it down as he entered the room. Mulder looked up at him, face a blank unreadable mask.

"Agent Doggett, I presume," Mulder said dryly with a nod of acknowledgment.

"Agent Mulder," Doggett nodded back, obviously uncomfortable with having a man he'd talked with on several occasions seem to meet him for the first time. "How's the arm?"

The mask Mulder had put on was beginning to dissolve and I didn't like the look that was forming. I had seen it all too many times: insolence mixed with defensiveness and a little arrogance thrown in for flavor. "So, you're the agent assigned to my partner. How's that working out for you? And what did you do to piss Kersch off so badly to get a detail like the X-Files?"

Doggett was obviously surprised at being so addressed, but rallied admirably. "Well, it seems I can't scratch my ass with out ticking off the Deputy Director and I don't mind the detail so much. I'm learning a lot and getting some interesting insight. But, I just came by to drop off Agent Scully's bag." Doggett turned to me and handed me a small envelope with a key card. "I booked you a room at the hotel a few blocks down. I'm gonna head over."  
Doggett turned back to Mulder and was amazingly polite. "Good to have you back with your memory this time, Agent Mulder." Doggett turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"You should go with him, Scully. You probably have case files to go over." Mulder's look was cold, but reserved and the nausea returned.

"Are you asking me to leave, Mulder?" I asked, not really wanting an answer, but needing for him to actually say that wanted me to go.

"Yeah, I am. You should get some rest. Take care of that..." he nodded at my midsection and swallowed. "Take care of that baby of yours."

"Mulder its not..." I began but was immediately cut off.

"Go, Scully. Just go."

So, I did. Anger and rejection beginning a slow burn in my chest, I picked up my bag and left the room, striding purposefully down the hallway and trying to ignore the growing fire that had ignited with Mulder's dismissal. I caught up with Doggett who was waiting on the elevator. He was looking down at his shoes, hands in his pockets and gave me a sideway glance as I stepped up next to him. Neither of us spoke until the elevator had emptied of its passengers and we stepped on. Agent Doggett looked me full in the face, his usual hard features softened.

"Agent Scully, I uh, I don't mean to presume here, but I think I got a good read on you and Mulder. It was a little on the tense side in there and I just, uh. Well, look, I can keep a confidence and if you wanted someone to unload on, I can take it."

The hesitance in his words didn't at all take away from their sincerity and I was grateful. I was also surprised at my desire to fall apart all over him and allow him to pick up the pieces. I obviously wasn't feeling at all myself. Looking at him, I could feel tears start to prick at my eyes, I quickly looked away and bit into my lower lip to keep it from trembling. With a deep breath, I replied,

"Thank you, Agent Doggett. I appreciate the offer, but there's simply no time right now."

He nodded his head slowly and returned to matters concerning our case.

"Well, I know its late, but there's a great sandwich shop not too far from here. I can't come to Pittsburgh and miss out on it. How 'bout I grab us a bite and you can fill me in on the long story about your last meeting with Alex Krycek."

This was entirely agreeable to me. He had to know what kind of side operation I was running. No more secrets. Well, mostly no more secrets, for now. He also needed to know how deep this particular rabbit hole went, for the sake of preparation. I still held the envelope Doggett had given me, containing two key cards. I handed him one of them and said,

"If you're talking about Primanti Brothers, you have a deal. Come on up to my room and I'll tell you as much as I can about the assignment Krycek gave me."

I shed most of my clothing upon entering my hotel room and was intent on taking a much needing shower. But, I needed to get the information Krycek had given me out for Doggett's review and to put together an email to the Gunmen. Having strong faith in their abilities and their speed, the task of tracking down the women on the list would take a fraction of the time in their hands.

Having composed and sent the email, I sat back in the chair at the tiny desk provided as, what the hotel was pleased to call, a work station. I had just made up my mind to get up and into the shower when my laptop dinged to alert me to an instant message. Frohike was working late and had questions, which I did my best to answer considering the limits of my own knowledge.

Agent Doggett cautiously knocked on the door of room 214. He waited a few seconds, but didn't hear anything from inside the room. Shrugging and fished the key Agent Scully had given him out of his back pocket. He was hesitant to use it, but she had given it to him. He had pondered the meaning of that during his sojourn to the restaurant, but had abandoned it. Shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the thoughts that had come unbidden to him, he pushed down the handle of the door, opening it slowly.

"Agent Scully?" he called, still not in the room and with the door halfway open, braced on his shoulder. The last thing he wanted to do was walk in on her in a state of undress. She'd probably kick is ass from here back to DC. She wasn't too shy in that locker room earlier... he heard his thought distinctly and imagined it had come from a devil sitting on his left shoulder.

He received no reply and entered the room, looking around, but didn't see his red haired partner anywhere. The sound of the shower running came to him and he felt his blood rise, the normally quiet process of his circulatory system suddenly making itself acutely known with thumping heart and pounding pulse.

"Christ, man, get it under control. Acting like a damn teenager." Doggett scolded himself. The door of the bathroom was ajar and he leaned, back against the wall so as to obstruct his view and called out to Scully again,

"Hey, Scully, I'm here, but I can go and come back later if you want... If you would rather I... That is, if you need more time."

An echoing reply from his unseen interlocutor filtered through the steamy atmosphere. "Start with the file on the bed. I'll be finished here in a minute."

Doggett made his way to the bed and rifled through the papers there. It was a list of names, dates, and other particulars. Leafing through them, he came across a familiar name: Scully, Dana K. This intrigued Doggett quite a bit. It seemed his new partner kept strange company. His attention was distracted from the papers in his hands when the laptop on the desk made a dinging sound. Doggett made his way over to the computer, squinting to see the screen. There was a message box flashing with a new IM from someone using the screen name JFByers.

JFByers: Scully, I just got the scoop from Frohike. Does this mean what I think it means?

The laptop dinged again and another message appeared in the same box.

JFByers: Scully? You there?

Doggett muttered a sarcastic, "no," and another chat box caught his attention. This one was a conversation between SAScully and KungfuNinja. Doggett looked surreptitiously at the bathroom door, noted the water still running and scrolled to the top of the message box. It wasn't a long exchange, but it certainly pique his curiosity about this KungfuNinja.

KungfuNinja: G-woman, just got your email. You just need current addresses?

SAScully: Yes, for now. I may need you to find medical records at some point, but I'd like to talk with them before I violate their privacy.

KungfuNinja: Regular spoilsport, you are. Census and SSA data is easy-peasy... Medical records on the other hand, that's fun stuff.

SAScully: Keep your pants on, shorty. Just addresses for now. You can have your geek fun later.

KungfuNinja: You spend too much time with Mulder. You used to be nice. I'll have something for you in the morning.

SAScully: You might earn yourself another kiss.

KunfuNinja: I think my heart stopped, Dr. Scully.

SAScully: You're out of luck, I'm in Pittsburgh. Get to work!

KungfuNinja: Worse than Mulder...

The sounds of running water coming from the bathroom ceased and Doggett tore his attention away from the odd conversation. He strode back the few feet to the bed and sat down with the list of names, looking at them, but not seeing. His mind was busy surmising that Scully had been talking to her hacking source, or sources, there seemed to be two people in on this.

Scully emerged from the tiny hotel bathroom clad in long knit pants, a t-shirt and a robe that looked like it probably had belonged to a much larger man at some point. The towel perched a top her head hid her flaming locks and Doggett was practically entranced. Kersch had to pair him with this most intriguing and beautiful agent at a time when his loneliness was threatening to get the better of him.

His thoughts were pulled back to the case at hand when Scully hesitantly began an explanation of her meeting with Krycek and its significance to the case.

"I've known for quite sometime there are others who were experimented on as part of a secret project. It seems that strange and impossible things have begun happening to those women. Krycek said they need protection. But, how? Before I worry about the how, though, I need to find them. I've enlisted the help of a source. The same people who hacked into the NRO, FBI, and NASA systems to life those satellite images," Scully concluded. She looked at Doggett with an eyebrow arched as if waiting for a barrage of questions from him.

"So I was right, then. You are in danger because of what was done to you in the past. If you're supposed to be protecting those other women, who's gonna protect you?" Agent Doggett peered at Scully who obviously hadn't come to the realization that she, herself, may need the protection she was about to offer others. Scully didn't offer a response beyond a negligible shrug of her shoulders. So, Doggett continued,

"And what kind of strange and impossible things are happening? Are we in the realm of the supernatural here, Agent Scully?"

Scully stood, turned her back on Agent Doggett, and began unwinding the towel covering her wet hair. "Only supernatural in the sense that our science has no way of explaining it."

"Scully," Doggett insisted, "what's happening to them?"

She didn't turn to face him for fear that her face would give way to the emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface, but responded while rubbing the white linen over her moisture curled hair. "They, like me, were left barren after the experiments done on them. But, according to Alex Krycek, they've miraculously become pregnant. I have to find them and speak with them and..."

Doggett interrupted, "and try to figure out how their infertility was reversed?"

Scully finally turned to look at her partner, to find a movingly sympathetic look on his rugged features. "I am interested in how. But, what I really need to know is why? The genetic material that was taken from us was used in a project to create hybrids." A distinct shadow crossed Scully's countenance, her thoughts turning to the daughter she had know too briefly. "The project failed and was exposed by Agent Mulder. The men who spearheaded all of these secret programs are dead. I'm under no illusions about the nature of the research that was done. It was brutal, unjust, and has ruined people's lives. But, why are we being given back what was taken from us?"

Scully's use of we didn't go unnoticed and puzzle pieces seemed to click together in Agent Doggett's mind. The picture that was becoming clearer left him with a hollow feeling in the his gut. Not to mention even more concerned for his partner's safety. He still buy into the alien colonization of the planet stuff, but he more than believed in the capacity of men to do evil deeds.

"I'm guessing the answer isn't altruistic good will," Doggett intoned with a touch of sarcasm. "But, I think in this case, the how might just lead us to the why. Let's start with the cancer curing chip," but Doggett thought better of talking through the information at hand right then and there. If the puzzle pieces were giving him an accurate picture, and his gut was telling him it was, he should wrap it up for the night. "Scratch that. Its been a long day, I'm beat. We should start with clear heads in the morning."

He had made the right call. Agent Scully's shoulders slumped in relief and she nodded her head in agreement. She was still beautiful, but with out the tricks of make-up Doggett could see the shadows around her eyes. Her work on the X-Files had put her through hell and she kept persisting. Doggett seemed to find something new to admired about Dana Scully every day. What he didn't appreciate was the secrecy and sidestepping of the truth.

Doggett had turned to go, but spun around on his heel and took the few necessary steps to reach Scully.

"Agent Scully," he began, and tried to tone down his demanding nature at the look of near alarm on her face. He stood, rooted to the spot, mouth open.  
The look of alarm faded from Scully's face and she stared back.

"Yes, Agent Doggett?"

He couldn't help it, he went with gratitude hoping to illicit guilt. "I'm glad you're sharing things with me now. Its good to have all the information I need so that I can do my best to always have your back."  
It worked. Scully broke eye contact with him and turned away from her partner.  
"Good night, Agent Dogget."  
...


	22. Vampire Drugs

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Mincal14, I wish I could PM you to discuss further. I wrote two versions of the chapter you reviewed. If anyone wants to see the other version, PM me. You'll see why it doesn't quite fit into the X-Files style. It simply doesn't work, for me, to wrap things up and tie with a nice bow. ;) Keep the reviews coming! I'd love to discuss your thoughts on what I have going on here. It's fun!_

_Oh! And I hope you guys get a 'kick' out of Scully going briefly ape $h!t. :)_

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I don't know how long it took for the sound of someone knocking on my hotel room door to wake me up. By the sounds of it, whoever was on the other side was getting impatient. I glanced at the clock and let out a heavy, irritated sigh. It read 3:36. I stumbled to the door and all vestiges of sleep vanished when the distorted face in the peephole was matched with a name in my fogged head. I flung the door open, grabbed Alex Krycek by the shoulders and brought my knee up hard into his groin. He doubled over, but didn't go down to his knees, so I quickly sidestepped him, turned and shoved him into my room by attempting to ram my foot up his ass.

Krycek sprawled on the floor and I narrowly stopped myself from putting a well-placed kick in his ribs. Instead, I slammed the door and growled, "Get up, you rat faced son of a bitch." Krycek staggered to his feet, a hand to his affected parts and a murderous look on his face. I forestalled any venomous words that would have spilled from his mouth by shoving him hard into a chair and slapping him across the face hard enough that my palm and fingers burned with the impact. I was about to land a right hook on his jaw, intending to break it, when I realized he wasn't just not fighting back, he wasn't even defending himself.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded.

"I may be a lot of things, Scully, but I won't hit a pregnant woman. No matter how hard she kicks me in the ass. I know you're pissed..."

"Pissed?" I snapped. "Pissed doesn't begin to cover it, Krycek. You threw him out of a moving car, you could have killed him."

Krycek snorted and sneered. "I was defending myself. He was pretty intent on killing me. I couldn't risk him succeeding this time. You need to get him under control."

It was my turn to laugh, though I did so without any humor whatsoever. "Control Mulder? Are you delusional?"

"A man who knows he's going to be father tends to take fewer risks. I need you both to take fewer risks and stay the hell out of my way." Krycek pulled the container I had seen on his person from his jacket pocket and handed it to me. "It's a vaccine for a virus: an alien virus that turns men and women into fighting machines. As long as the colonizers have control of that virus and the people who are infected, they're damn near invincible. Several of my colleagues and I are charged with tracking down the abductees and administering the vaccine."

I took a syringe out of the clear plastic case and examined it under the lamp light. It was a transparent amber color and each tube was filled to 12cc. "I have questions and I expect answers."

Krycek nodded. "I'll tell you as much as I can. But first, how are you doing on tracking down those women?"

I took a syringe, wrapped it in a sock and put in my bag with no protest from Krycek. At a guess, I would have said, if I found a way to manufacture more, it wouldn't come amiss. "I should have information on their whereabouts in the morning. Who made this?" I handed him back the clear plastic case.

"It was already in the works when the Syndicate went down. The information survived and was utilized by a different group of scientists to finish the chemistry and manufacture it. I don't know their names. I only know that we're on the same side." Krycek put the case back in his pocket and stood, taking his time to wander over to the small desk and have a look around.

"Why wasn't Mulder infected with this virus? He was taken at the same time as Ray Hoese, why didn't he need the vaccine?" I had taken a seat on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. The adrenaline that coursed through me when I was intent on beating Krycek to a pulp was spent and its aftereffects made my dizzy and slightly nauseous.

Krycek sat opposite me, at the foot of the bed and ran his good hand through his jet hair, making it stand briefly in spikes. "You'll recall the incident last year that sent you running to the Ivory Coast and Mulder to the psych ward."

I nodded my head. Of course I remembered that. I had spent an ungodly amount of time on a remote beach fearing what I would find, fearing that I wouldn't find it in time, and fearing that at any minute the local population would string me up for violating something so obviously sacred. "I recall quite well," I said.

"It fundamentally changed him. They must have tried to infect him, but it failed. The only reason we were able to trade for him is because we were holding two of their scientists."

"Trade? As in prisoner exchange?" I asked.

"Exactly. Prisoners of war."

I let my head fall back against the wall and breathed slowly. The anomalous brain activity that had begun with Mulder's contact with writings that turned out to cover the skin of a washed up spacecraft had disappeared with his abduction. I had thought that something that was done to him was the cause of it if so, "why would they correct the brain disease that was killing him, if they had intended to infect him with this virus? Why would they save him?"

"If they left him alone and he learned to use his ability to read minds, he could use it against them. They know he'll fight against colonization, they couldn't take the risk of Mulder being able to listen in on their communications."

My mouth, unbecomingly, fell open in astonishment. "You're saying that, for the past year, Mulder has been able to read people's minds? If that were the case, there are countless dangerous situations that he would have avoided. Our cases would have been solved and closed immediately."

"It's not that simple, Scully. He gave himself injections that kept him functioning, kept him on his feet, and kept him from hearing every thought around him. He had become like your friend Gibson Praise, but his biology wasn't right for it. That's why it was killing him."

"Then why not let him die?" I certainly wasn't feeling overly charitable towards Mulder at that moment, but nonetheless had the same sinking feeling and ache in my chest at the thought of his death.

"Mulder's a wildcard. No one knows quite what to with him, but they know he may useful to either side of this war. He was useful to the colonizers, his release brought two scientists back to them. I think they know they won't be able to turn him, but he's a bargaining chip."

A pawn once again. Could Mulder not escape this undignified role? I was exhausted and Krycek hadn't yet given me any hope that this would end soon or that we could avoid any of the oncoming melee. So I continued my interrogation. "He must be useful to the rebels then. How?"

"His legacy," Krycek said simply. "The same reason I just saved Ray Hoese from becoming something different, something evil, a soldier for colonization. They both have very, very special children to raise."

...

Agent Doggett knocked on the door of 214 again the next morning. He straightened his tie and waited for his partner to open the door. He began to be concerned when she didn't answer after several rounds of knocking and waiting. Doggett checked his watch. 7:23. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Scully's number and turned in surprise when the ringing in his ear was matched by a digital sounding ring coming from down the hall behind him. Scully was approaching, Styrofoam cup of tea with the bag still in it in one hand, cell phone in the other and a giant bagel hanging out of her mouth.

She saw him, nodded awkwardly, checked the caller ID on her cell phone as Doggett was lowering his own and punching the END button. She pocketed the phone in her long black blazer and removed the bagel from her mouth enough to give him a cursory, "good morning, Agent Doggett." Shoving the bagel, it looked and smelled like cinnamon raisin, back in her mouth and fishing out her room key.

Once inside the small room, he got a better look at his partner. She had put on her usual minimalist make-up, but her eyelids seemed larger than usual and the sclera beneath had a definite red tinge. It looked like she had a long, rough night. Doggett noticed sheets that looked like MRI images, motioned to them and raised an eyebrow.

Scully finished chewing, swallowed and answered his look, "I finally got a look at the MRI of Mulder's arm. There's a tear here," she held up the film and indicated a circled area. "It's not a complete tear, so recovery time may be faster, but it still needs a stitch or two to prevent further damage."

Doggett didn't bother asking how she had gotten ahold of the images since he left her room late last night. His partner had obviously been up and at it much earlier that he had. He felt guilty and annoyed at himself. "You're the doc, Doc. When are they gonna do it?"

"He's in surgery now. It won't take long. He should be able to go home tomorrow." Scully took another bit of her bagel and went on, "I assume you got a call from Skinner? I've been sending his calls to voicemail."

Doggett put on a mocking shocked face. "Avoiding calls from your superior, Special Agent Scully?"

"Not taking the time for Kersch's latest bitch fit, Special Agent Doggett. What is it this time?"

Doggett smiled and took a seat in the small chair by the desk. "The Deputy Director would like to know why in hell we wasted our time finding Mulder if we intended to get him killed only two weeks after his return by taking him on a field investigation that's a waste of travel expense, Bureau overtime, and tax payers' dollars when we could have gotten all the information we needed over the phone." Doggett paused, took a deep dramatic breath. "Skinner then said that Deputy Director wants our 'asses on a plane back to D.C. today and in his office first thing in the morning on Monday to explain our little field trip. I think there might have been a word not suitable for polite company beginning with the letter F thrown in there a few times."

"We're under a microscope here, Agent Doggett. I haven't made any reports to Skinner or Kersch other than the general nature of the investigation as it pertains to Mulder's disappearance. He's passing judgment on information that he doesn't have. How is that possible? Have you been calling in reports?"

She hadn't said it in accusatory tone, only curiosity showed in her voice, but Doggett took a tiny bit of offense. "No, Agent Scully, you have the lead on these investigations, I don't make reports without you're 'okay' first."

Scully stood from her spot on the corner of the bed and went to Doggett. She stood close enough that he could smell the scent of her shampoo. It was intoxicating and it took all his reserve not to jump out of his skin when she placed a hand on his rigid shoulder.

"It's okay, John. I trust you. I know you wouldn't go behind my back."

He couldn't look at her, not at those big blue eyes looking on him with trust. Those eyes that had looked at him with burning ice when they had first met, had softened since to warm blue depths. The return of the ice queen would be a welcome chill to the heat of a flush that took him unawares. Still avoiding eye contact, Doggett stood and motioned toward the door.

"We should get going. We need to book a flight out of here and you probably want to check on Mulder."

...

Mulder was still in recovery when I arrived at the hospital, but I was able to briefly talk with the surgeon. The surgery had gone well, two stitches in the damaged tendon, and only a small surgical wound. They would hold him for another 24 hours to monitor him for anesthesia complications and infection. Beyond that, he'd need to see a physical therapist, of course. As many injuries as we both had sustained over the years, we practically had one on speed dial.

I was waiting in Mulder's room when they brought him back from recovery. He was understandably groggy, but his green eyes focused a bit more when he saw me. I gave him a brief rundown of what the surgeon had told me and a few cautions for moving the arm around. They wouldn't be able to put a cast on until the incision had begun healing so,

"You absolutely must not move it so far as is humanly possible." His gaze had begun to wander and cloud over. "Mulder? Are you hearing me?"

"Yeah, Scully. Humanly possible, got it." He paused for a few seconds, mouth open in an "O" that gave way to a leering grin. "You're pretty," Mulder said with a rather stupid look on his face.

"Thanks," I replied dryly.

"When can you take me home? I'm worried about my fish." He was practically drooling on himself, but God forbid anything come between him and his damn fish.

"You'll have to make your way home by yourself. But, they'll release you tomorrow, barring any complications."

The pouty look on his face was simultaneously annoying and endearing. I smiled down at him. "You'll do fine. I'll be in DC when you get back."

"Why can't you stay? You're my physician. It would irresponsible of you to leave me here. Don't you think?"

I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that his fuzzy headedness was put on for sympathy. People having a hard time coming out of anesthesia don't use deductive reasoning to their advantage.

"Agent Doggett and I are finished here for now. We have a meeting with Kersch in the morning and I have..." I trailed off not wanting to talk about my upcoming appointment. "and I have to feed your fish. I don't think they'll survive until your return."

Memories flooded my mind: going over to his apartment, ostensibly to feed the fish, while he was gone, and curling up on his ridiculous water bed with the scent of him still on the sheets. It had been a balm to my raw nerves.

"Right," Mulder said, matching my earlier dry tone. "What's he like?"

"Who?" I asked, forgetting that Mulder didn't remember his previous encounters with Agent Doggett."

"Dog-man. What's his angle? If he's trying to get up in the world, he landed in the wrong spot. If he's trying to get up your..."

A knock on the door sounded and Agent Doggett appeared, right on cue, yet again._ Does he have some kind of sixth sense?_ I thought, irritated. Mulder was pulling his jealousy routine, an act I sorely disliked.

"Agent Mulder," Doggett nodded in the direction of the hospital bed. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Scully, but I've got Skinner on the line and he wants to talk with you."

I took the cell proffered cell from Agent Doggett and stepped out into the hallway.

...

Doggett made his way to the foot of the hospital bed Mulder occupied. He clearly noted the look of indifference that bordered on dislike that he was getting from the man.

"Surgery go okay for you?" He asked by way of conversation.

"Yeah, it went great. I'll be good as new in no time."

Doggett was having hard believing that the man he was talking to now was the same who shook his hand several days ago. This guy did not like him in the slightest. Doggett remembered Scully's demeanor upon her departure from Mulder the night before and started to have a distinctly pissy feeling toward Agent Fox Mulder.

"You know, I saw Scully last night after she left you. She wasn't in the greatest mood after your conversation." Doggett was baiting him. And Mulder bit.

"And what concern is it of yours, Agent Doggett? What happens between my partner and I is private."

Yeah, Doggett got the picture all right. "I'm not saying it's any of my business what the two of you talked about. But, I'd like for you to remember that she busted her ass and my balls trying to find you. She's been through a lot. Just keep that in mind, Agent Mulder."

Mulder's face hardened, his jaw muscles becoming pronounced and he practically spit with his next words. "And what keeps you up at night, Agent Doggett? Is it thoughts of your balls or Scully's ass?"

Doggett felt his own face go rigid and he leaned in menacingly, two hands gripping the foot of the bed. "I won't get into a pissing contest with you over the X-Files. That's your show. But, I will speak my mind when it comes to _my_ partner. She leaves this room on the verge of tears again and you might need surgery on the other arm."

Spinning on his heel, military style, Doggett left the room with a swoosh of the door and a small bang as it hit the jam again.

Mulder sat staring after the man who had taken his place. He didn't like him, wasn't sure what he had done to earn Scully's good opinion of him. But, he thought, maybe, Agent Doggett would do a decent job of having Scully's back in and out of the field.

...

"Scully," I said into Doggett's cell phone. The Assistant Director's voice came through crackling, but clear enough.

"Agent Scully, there's a matter that requires your attention..."

I cut him off, "Sir, Agent Doggett has made me aware of the Deputy Director's opinions and I apologize for not answering my phone but..."

"Scully, we'll deal with you avoiding my calls later. You've got a reprieve from Kersch as well. You'll recall and agent that Doggett called in for assistance on Mulder's disappearance? A Monica Reyes?"

I was more than glad to avoid Kersch for however long the reprieve lasted and was surprised that we were hearing from Agent Reyes again. "Yes, sir, I remember her." She was hard to forget.

"She's requested assistance on a case she picked up out of the New Orleans field office. There's been a death that looks… ritualistic nature."

I was pacing a small piece of the hallway while listening and was a bit taken aback that she would request our help. "She's an expert in the occult, what does she need from us?"

Skinner cleared his throat and continued, "the NOPD's coroner is having trouble establishing a cause of death. The circumstances lend themselves to murder, but there isn't any evidence that points to it. Apparently, this person is mostly dead, they think."

My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Excuse me? Are you saying they have a murder victim, but the victim is only mostly dead?"

"There's some dispute, yes. The body was discovered three days ago, transported to the coroner's office, disappeared, and then found dead again. But, uh, well..." All his years in dealing Mulder's beyond weird cases, Skinner still had trouble wrapping his brain around things. But, then again, I was having trouble with this one too as Skinner continued to explain, "it seems the woman was killed differently the, uh, I guess the _second_ time."

"Vampire," I said, unwittingly remembering Ronnie Strickland and his disappearing act. It's a wonder I didn't have nightmares about that case. Mulder had nearly gotten the FBI sued for an obscene amount of money and we had both been drugged into stupors that could have easily gotten us killed... or worse.

"Right, vampire. Glad you've got it nailed down already, Scully. Come home and pack your crucifix and your holy water. I'm booking flights for you and Agent Doggett for tomorrow morning."

I was on the verge of saying, "yeah, sure no problem." I was anxious to tell Mulder of the case. He wouldn't be able to go, but this was his favorite kind of strangeness. I couldn't not share it with him. But, I recalled my appointment for 2pm tomorrow and said instead, "Sir, I'm sorry, I can't leave early tomorrow."

Agent Doggett stepped out of Mulder's room in a hurry, thunder on his face. I rolled my eyes and turned away.

"I have an appointment that I can't miss tomorrow afternoon."

There was a silence that I considered longer than necessary on the other end. Finally, Skinner's voice crackled back to life. "Scully, if you're ready to call it and not go out in the field, I'll completely understand."

"No!" I said, louder than strictly necessary. "Sir," I began in a quieter tone. "Thank you, but I don't think we want to send Agent Doggett into Voodoo country looking for what may or may not be vampiric in nature. Book the flight for after 5 and I'll be on it."

There was another pronounced silence followed by a sigh. "Fine, one more thing, Dana. Is someone going with you tomorrow?"

I smiled into the phone. "Yes, my... Oh shit!"

Panic was evident in Skinner's voice, "What? What is it, Agent?"

"I forgot to call my mother back and tell her when my appointment is."

...

Mulder was sitting up much straighter in his narrow bed as I finished giving him a rundown of the case Agent Reyes had for us. As I had suspected he wasn't really feeling too terribly in after effects of anesthesia and surgery. He launched into a 'Fox Mulder's History of the Vampire' during which my eyes began glazing and I yawned hugely.

"Hey you might want to pay attention to this, Scully. I'm not going to be there this time." He indicated his injured arm and gave me a wide eyed look.

"If I'm not mistaken, it was me who discovered the presence of chloral hydrate in time to save your ass." I quirked an eyebrow at him and got the half smile response I was looking for.

"Yeah, well, you got drugged too," he replied in his best 11 year old boy tone.

"You need to rest. I'm going. Call me when you get back to DC so I can remind you of all the things you're not supposed to do while you're recovering. Okay?"

He nodded and I turned to go, but he caught my hand and turned me back toward him. With a now quite serious look and tone he said, "Be careful," and gave a nod at my midsection. "Vampire drugs probably aren't good for the kiddo."

"I'll be careful," I promised and leaned over his bed, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm not here to keep track of you."

Mulder gave me a wide impish grin and made a sloppy X across his heart with his index finger.


	23. Olfactory Triggers

**A/N: I forget that you guys don't live in my head. LOL When watching the series on TV all those years ago, I had a face-palm moment when Reyes was introduced. I thought "well why in the hell did he wait so damn long to call HER?!" And so, in my little world, Doggett called on Reyes during the initial search for Mulder.**

**Also, thank you so much for the all the follows and reviews. Its my main mission to entertain with this. Writing this gives me a nice break from writing research papers ;) I'm trying my hand at a MOTW over the next few chapters. But, I won't abandon mytharc entirely during the MOTW. **

* * *

I was enjoying a surprisingly pleasant morning shopping with my mother. People tend to be much more friendly when you're flashing a VISA rather than a badge. Mom brought me a particularly ugly blouse that had the general silhouette of a tent and featured a red, white and blue paisley print.

"Oh that's perfect!" I mocked, rolling my eyes and beginning to laugh. Mom had stuck her tongue out and pretended to gag.

"You laugh, but when I was having you kids, this is all there was. Nowadays women get to show off their baby hump, or lump, or bump or whatever they're calling it. In my day it was taboo to look pregnant."

I held up a navy blue, lightweight knit sweater for her inspection. "I'm not exactly trying to flaunt what I've got, Mom. What do you think? Dark enough?"

It was Mom's turn to roll her eyes. "Dana, I understand that you're technically single, but times have changed, no one is going to judge you for wanting to have a baby. Its not unheard of."

I started to say, "Mom, I'm not worried about..." and meant to finish, about what people think because I'm not married. But I realized that, perhaps, the good little Catholic girl in me did feel that way. I wanted what most women wanted: a good career, a family with children and a husband. But I had denied myself not only of what I wanted, but the actual wanting, until I couldn't have it. I had denied myself because the only man I wanted to have in my life, to have children with, didn't want those things until he had forgotten who he truly was.

Without his past and without his insatiable drive for his work on the X-Files, he had wanted what I wanted. He had wanted me and he had wanted his child to be the most important things in his life. Before that he had been willing to help me have a baby, but didn't want it to change things between us. What had been between us then was a strong friendship, deep trust, and perhaps a love that neither us were able or willing to admit.

And then it hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. When Mulder had agreed to father the baby I wanted so badly, he was dying. He had never intended to actually be a father. And when we had begun sharing a bed after his trip to England and my encounter with Daniel, he knew his time was running short and never expected to see it through.

I could feel the blood draining my face and my stomach churned giving me the telltale heads up that it was about to turn itself inside out. Shoving the pile of clothes I held into my mother's arms I turned and headed for the ladies room. Genius had struck the designers of that particular department and they had placed the restrooms near the maternity section, _thank_ _God_.

I heard my mother call after me with a worried tone, "Dana? Where are you...?"

She caught up with me a few minutes later as I was bent over the utilitarian sink rinsing my mouth. I looked up to see her worried face in the mirror behind me and forestalled her.

"I'm fine, Mom."

"You always are, Dana." She gave me a small smile, which I tried, with trembling lips to return. "You know, I think its a girl."

Having dragged a wet paper towel my face, I turned and gave my mother a real smile. "What makes you say that?"

"Your brothers gave me absolutely no trouble at all. With you, on the other hand, I was sick day and night for the whole pregnancy. I couldn't wait to get you out of me."

I laughed and allowed her to pull me into an enveloping hug. Smoothing my hair down she said quietly, "But, I've never had cause to regret it."  
...

"Very nice femur shot. That and head circumference will give us a nice clear picture of where you are, Dana." Dr. Speake wasn't looking at me, but must have sensed that I was holding my breath. She removed her eyes from the monitor and smiled down at me. "Everything looks great."

I let out the breath I had been holding for what seemed like an eternity and Mom's grip on my right hand relaxed. turning my head to look at my mother, I saw that there were tears her in eyes and had to look away before my own water works began.

With in the cozy confines of Dr. Speake's office, we discussed lab work and genetic testing that I had requested. We decided on a simple blood draw and marker test for the time being. Neither of us was prepared for the more complicated amniocentesis.

The ultrasound tech entered with a file folder and VHS tape. The folder was given to Dr. Speake and the video to me. I wasn't sure exactly what I was going to do with it, but was glad to have evidence of the baby's wellbeing in hand.

"You weren't too far off, Dana. The baby's measurements and the chart have you at 14 weeks, 3 days. But, take the days part with a grain of salt. All babies are different as you well know."

No, not too far off. I suddenly had a desire to know exactly when and where this little miracle had happened. But, after that initial, slow, tender night it was all a blur. My bed, his bed, random cheap motels in this city and that or in the middle of nowhere. We had eyed the leather love seat in Skinner's office once while waiting to hand over a field report. The thought of our mutual understanding and shared impulses to explore each other's bodies in forbidden places caused a warmth to ignite in me. My body reacted to the mere thought of his and for a split second I wanted nothing more than to find him and...

"Dana is still feeling sick," my mother's voice cut through the fog of my increasingly steaming thoughts. "is there anything you can give her to help with the nausea?"

Prescriptions for an iron supplement and Zofran in hand, I promised Mom I would be careful and headed home to pack for my trip south with Agent Doggett.  
...

Even at night the air in New Orleans seemed particularly thick. It wasn't terribly hot, but humid as always. Reyes provided us with initial autopsy reports and photos of the first scene where the victim had been found. Initial ruling on cause of death had been exsanguination resulting from self-inflicted wounds on the interior carpal region. A rather convoluted and not entirely accurate description of suicide. I cringed at the report, thinking of how I would have stated the findings.

"So, she slit her wrists," Doggett summarized the findings. "Any history of mental illness?"

Agent Reyes handed over another piece of the file. This was a report dated three days before the suicide from a local mental health agency. Jennifer Brinks, the victim, had sought help from a counselor regarding intermittent auditory and visual hallucinations.

"It says here the symptoms were thought to be stress induced," I looked up at Agent Reyes who had apparently been staring at me, judging from her scared rabbit reaction to me addressing her. "I see no evidence that she was tested for or even asked about drug use. What's the status of the post mortem toxicological exam?"

Agent Reyes recovered herself and answered, "Its still in the lab, we're waiting on results. But, Agent Scully, I think the most important thing here is that Miss Brinks' body disappeared from the morgue only to be found again a few hours later, with injuries that appeared to be the result of an attack." She slid more photos across the desk to me.

These showed the same woman, in a different location with three dark ligature marks around her throat. Doggett looked at the photos over my shoulder and cleared his throat.

"Doesn't it seem most likely that someone stole the body from the morgue and posed her like that?"

He had a point. Body snatching is by no means unheard of. But, generally, cadavers that are stolen are used for dissection and experiments, not for... well for whatever this was. It certainly wasn't any vampire activity I'd ever seen or read about either. I said as much to both the puzzled agents.

"There's just one problem," I said with a cock of an eyebrow towards Agent Reyes. She nodded her head slowly and indicated the stark, purple ligature marks on the dead woman's neck.

"That's why I asked for you," she said as she continued to tap an index finger on the photo. "Dead people don't bruise like this."

The shrill sound of my cell phone ringing made all three of us jump. A glance at the caller ID told me all I needed to know and I excused myself.

"I need to take this, Agent Doggett. Find out about the victim's family, boyfriend, other friends. We'll want to talk to them."

Stepping out into the darkened hallway, I answered my phone, already knowing I'd hear Mulder's voice.

"Hey, Scully its me. How's things in good ol' Loosianna?" His southern drawl was a terrible imitation and I laughed despite myself. After this morning's revelation, I wasn't entirely keen on talking with Mulder just yet.

"Things are fine. What can I do for you?" I said rather shortly.

"Well," he said, getting down to business. "I thought you may have some insight into the whereabouts of my computer."

"Oh," I sighed. "It was taken, along with mine. Probably by the bounty hunter. They seemed to have been mopping up evidence of their plans and interferences."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone call and I heard what sounded like his basketball being kicked across the room. I had no trouble imagining the look on his face. The only other time he had physically lashed out in frustration was under the pressure of potentially costing the FBI $446 million. I remembered the state of the office trash can and felt a ridiculous sense of satisfaction at his frustration.

"My back up drive?" He asked shortly with a loud exhale.

I smiled to myself and answered, "right where you left it. You have the key." I disconnected the call before the conversation could turn to any other matters. One thing at a time.  
...

Mulder fished his keys out of his pocket while approaching the clean white door that led to his partner's apartment. Once inside, he closed the door quietly and looked around at the familiar surroundings. He felt like he was home, more so than when he had entered his own apartment earlier that afternoon. The aroma of scented candles, clean laundry, and something else that he thought of as the Scully smell filled his nostrils and he was practically intoxicated.

Flipping on the lights, he made his way to Scully's inner sanctum. The smell that made his heart beat louder was stronger in her bedroom and he drank it in like the elixir of life. When he began spending more and more time at her apartment, he had surreptitiously sniffed her soap, shampoo, perfume, and other girly impedimenta. But, couldn't discern the source. It was just her and he missed it, badly.

Mulder fished a tiny key out of the jewelry box on the dresser and opened the top drawer on the right. Under an assortment of men's undershirts, mostly swiped from himself, athletic socks, and sports bras, which didn't help the stirring and twitching he had been trying to ignore. Mulder found the lock box that contained his back up drive and pulled it from the drawer with a last wistful look at the intimate athletic apparel.

Closing the drawer with his hip, he turned toward the bed and caught sight of more clothing that belonged to him. In a heap on the neatly made bed was an Oxford shirt, suit pants, two t-shirts, and his favorite flannel pajama pants. It was obvious that the clothing had been worn recently. The sight made him ache for the ease and comfort of his relationship with Scully before that damned trip to Oregon.

He had missed a lot, but not nearly as much as he would have missed had he not been taken. The sudden feeling of mortality conquered left him hollow inside. Seeking an escape, he took the lock box to the kitchen and set it on the counter. A note addressed to him, left on the same counter, caught his eye.

_Mulder,  
Gone to follow a lead. Back soon.  
Love,  
S._

Mulder laid his hand flat on the piece of paper and curled his fingers inward, crinkling the paper and ending with it in a ball in his hand. He pressed it to his forehead and breathed heavily through his nose.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," came out of his mouth in an angry whisper. Losing interest in the lock box, Mulder turned and opened the fridge, but found nothing suited to healing a broken man. A glance to the top of fridge had him staring at a dusty, half full bottle of scotch. He pulled it down, retrieved ice from the freezer and a tumbler from the cupboard.

Settling on the couch, he poured himself a double and sipped. He had been trying desperately to tamp down his feelings for the last 24 hours. It was a vain attempt. He wanted to know, who? If he was going to allow himself to think like this, he tossed back the remainder of his glass, poured another, tossed it back and repeated.

Sitting back on the couch, he ran a hand through his hair and down his face. "Who, dammit!" Mulder shouted to the empty apartment. Who had succeeded where he had failed? Who had been able gave Scully her heart's desire? A stranger picked for height and IQ? _I fit the bill for that!_ Or was it someone else she knew? Mulder's quick mind scanned through possibilities, a rather short list. He had been selfish over the years, constantly pulling her away from any semblance of a normal life.

He had tried to make up for that when Scully had made her monumental request to him. It had taken him by surprise, but then he realized it was only natural, they were what they were to each other. Not lovers, but far from only friends. But, he had been selfish then too. It wasn't only his desire to help Scully regain at least one thing that had been taken from her. They say having children gives you immortality. He wanted to leave something behind, leave his mark on the world before the brain he had tirelessly sought to fill with knowledge killed him.

But he had failed. Like so many other things in his life, he had failed to give Scully back the things he blamed himself for having been taken from her. He hadn't protected her from being taken in the first place, hadn't protected her from being attacked by liver eating weirdos, hair washing and finger eating freaks, that cigarette smoking son of a bitch. It wasn't surprising that she had turned to someone else when her initial attempts at getting pregnant had failed.

"It should have been me, goddamit!" None of the furniture seemed to mind his angry tone, but he felt awkward talking to an empty room, nonetheless. Mulder pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number of the only person he could think of who could help him regain some sense of control.

It took several rings, but the call was answered with a customary if groggy, "Skinner."

"Sir, I need for you to fulfill a for me request first thing in the morning."

Mulder heard the older man sigh, "Do you have any idea what time it is? I'm in bed, Mulder. Whatever it is..."

The next thing that Mulder heard made his jaw drop. A woman's voice, husky with sleep and slightly muffled interrupted his supervisor's admonishment, "It's Fox? Is he okay?"


End file.
